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££S*S*S3 c fc:' 



PS 3537 
.H946 
F5 
1900 
Copy 1 



\kcr'3 Edition 

m of PL7\Y5 



SECOND COPY, 



A FIGHTING CHANCE 




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f THE CABINET MINISTER. | U^i.^ J% 

\ij ~ " and nine female characters. 
Mr Costumes, modern society ; scenery, three interiors. A verv Qm "* 5 "" ~< '••• 



THE AMAZONS. I ^Farcical Romance in Three Acts. ByARTmiR 

^ ^^^^ * I V\ • PlNERO. Seven male and five female char- 

■ acters. Costumes, modern; scenery, an exterior 

and an interior, not at all difficult. This admirable fare- is too well known 
through its recent performance by the Lyceum Theatre Company, New York to 
need description. It is especially recommended to young ladies' schools and 
colleges. (1895.) 



genioua in construction, and brilliant in dialogue. (1892.) 

DANDY DICK. I i v Farce l n T,m " Ac * s - , p> > Arthur w. pixero. M/ 

I .Seven male, tour female character.-. Costumes, mod- t|j 

ern ; scenery, two interiors. This very amusing piece Mf 

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\|> THE HOBBY HORSE J A Comedy in Three Acts. By Arthur Jfo 

W * "^ *v^*-"-» * *■ iwavji^. 1 w. Pkjero. Ten male, five female char- \!/ 

\\'i '. i " ' ~- acters. Scenery, two interiors and an ex- sk' d 

Vf tenor : costumes, modem. This piece is best known in this country through the \f/ 

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yf fully acted. Plays two hours and a half. (1S92.) \I# 

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\l/ ^v/m>nnj^[ Pinero. Eight male and seven female char- Vft/ 

•i. ~ ; ' " ; " acters. Costumes, modern : scenery, four Vf 

\f/ mfce " or f. not easy- A play of powerful sympathetic interest, % little sombre in tl> 

?Y. key, but not unrelieved by humorous touches. (1892 ) Vf 

w \i> 

1 



A Fighting Chance 

Or, For the Blue or the Gray 



A Play in Three Acts for Femade 
Characters Only 



By DORA ADfiLE SHOEMAKER 



Written for and originally produced by pupils of the National 
School of Elocution and Oratory, Philadelphia, Pa. 



BOSTON 

WALTER H. BAKER & CO 

1900 



A Fighting Chance 

CHARACTERS 

/1j originally produced, Saturday, April 2gtk, i8gg. 

Madame Mayburn Harriet M. Sayre 

The Principal of the School 
Mlle. Fordet Edith G. Moses 

The French Instructress, possessing great admiration for 
her own detective powers 
Eleanore Hamilton, The New Arrival, Ada Mae Storm 
Cecil Hotspur, A True Southerner, Anna Irwin 

Ruth Anna Morton, A Quakeress, Carrie C. Tilton 
Helen Hastings Mae G. Young 

With an uncontrollable fondness for "jacks " 
Mabel Davis, An " F. F. V." Naomi I. De Ginther 
Lulu Jefferson, Cecil's Room-mate, Carrie A. Bowman 
Madeline Burgson Susan Appelgate 

Troubled with English but never with insomnia 
Juliet Washington Anabel Johnson Mary W. Syme 

Decidedly above (( po' white trash" 
Rosy Harrigan Mabel Mac George 

With a love for the Union subservient to her hatred of i 'niggers ' ' 

Scene. — Green Arches, a well-to-do boarding school a little 
south of Mason and Dixon's line — renowned as a southern 
institution. 

Time — October, 1862. 

Act I — Hallway. Morning. 

Act II — Girls' study room. Afternoon, one week later. 

Act III — Library. The following night. 

Copyright, 1900, by Walter H. Baker & Co. 



WO COPIES REG, 

JAN 3 I 1900 





COSTUMES 



ACT I 

Eleanore Hamilton,— Black traveling gown, gloves and 
hat, hand bag, 

Madame. — Suitable gown, dark, with white lace. 

Mlle. Fordet. — Costumed more elaborately, flowing 
sleeves, etc. 

Helen. ^ 

Cecil. I Dressed suitably for young ladies at school \ the 

Mabel, j dresses rather plain. 

Lulu. J 

Madeline Burgson. — Dress shorter than the others, apron, 
hair in two braids. 

Ruth. — Grey gown, very plain, with white fichu crossed on 
breast. 

Juliet. — Servant's gown, checked apron, red bandanna on 
head. 

Rosy. — Servant's dress — after first appearance with dainty 
cap and apron. 

ACT II 

Some or all of the gowns differing, but with the same general 
idea as to appearance. 

ACT III 

Eleanore. — Military cap and long military overcoat. Rid- 
ing boots. 

Madame. — Dark dress. 

School Girls. — Dark cloaks over light dresses. 

Time for representation, two hours. 



A Fighting Chance. 



ACT I. 

SCENE. — A hallway in school. Chairs at rear. Table and 
easy chair down R. Pictures on wall. Exits rear centre, 
down r. , up l. Rosy Harrigan discovered on her knees, 
with sleeves rolled up, scrubbing-brush and bucket beside her, 
wrin%in% out cloth and humming loudly "Dixie." She 
pauses in work and lowers her voice as she hears Juliet. 

Juliet {outside). Oh ! Dar it is again. Deed'n it's jes' 
nuffin' mo' den dat po' white trash. 

Rosy (indignantly). An' me sowl, a stayin' here to be in- 
sulted by thet durty black nagger. Talkin' to hersilf outside 
the door. Oi' 11 give her wan. (Rises and beckons with brushy 
Come, git to work, you black imp av the — ach ! murther ! 
there's somebody wid her. Arrah ! (Snatches pail and stands 
back curtseying.) 

Enter Juliet and Eleanore Hamilton, r. 

Eleanore (turning at door, r.). Here, coachman, is your 
pay. (Leaning forward in an intense aside to coachman, as 
Rosy a?id Juliet have business.) Sumpter is the password. 
Do not fail if I signal. Two shots if in danger. 

(Eleanore and Juliet walk across stage, talking. As they 
pass, Rosy stares.) 

Eleanore. And so, aunty, although you are well treated, 
you want " Massa Lincom " to win. But now where will I find 
Madame Mayburn ? 

Juliet. Dis way, miss. She dun tole me she'd be down 
right off quick. Dar now, don't you all fall ober dem chairs 
dat keerless Rosy hab lef. \_Exeunt both, l. 

Rosy (grimacing). "Keerless Rosy hab lift." Oi'll git 
aven wid her yit. A runnin' down av me charakter to thim 

5 



6 A FIGHTING CHANCE. 

newcomers. Me, a Irish loidy workin' wid that low down 
pace av ebony. Shure'n Oi'll lave the place yit, that Oi will. 

{Takes bucket, goes l. ; then, as Juliet returns l., she keeps 
her ground and stares as Juliet crosses to right of stage. 
Juliet makes no sign that she knows ^/"Rosy's where- 
abouts except in holding herself very stiffly.') 

Juliet. Dar, I jes' been thinkin' sho' 'miff whar dat Irish 
gal hab went. Neber's workin' as far's I ken see. Neber 
does no work 's far's any pusson ken see. Neber does nufhn' 
but loaf an' talk to dat vegmutable man. (Rosy bridling up 
more every minute and raising scrubbing-brush to throw at 
Juliet.) " 'Spect she'll be after dem soldierses if dey eber gets 
roun' hyah. (Rosy throws brush, missing her.) Oh ! yo's 
hyah is yo', tho't mebbe I'd wake yo' all upsomwhars. Guess 
I'll do a bit ob dustin' seein' as der ain't none done. 

Rosy. It's not me that wull spake to the grasy black thing. 
I belave it's a monkey, I do indade. {Laughs.) 

Juliet {dusting). If dat was any kind ob a new joke I'd 
laf. Since dar's nobody about I might jes' as well sing. 
{Sings.) 

" Oh say ken yo' see 
By de dawn's early light," etc. 

(Rosy sings " Dixie" very loudly. Both girls dusting with 

backs turned. Run against each other. Business of 

singing again, etc. Enter back of stage c. Cecil, 

Helen, with bag of jacks, and Lulu, all rushing in. 

Madeline folloivs sleepily.) 

Cecil. What are yo' servants doin' ? The idea, Juliet, of 

singin' thet low Yankee song hyah. Leave the room this 

instant. Yo' all deserve to be whipped. If madame knew 

anything she'd hev it done, tew. 

\_Exeunt Juliet, r., and Rosy, c. 

Enter Mabel Davis, l., studying from book. 
Helen, j Mabel> have you hear d tne news ? 

Mabel. Amo, Amas, Amat— Oh! What is it— news? 
Have we won another victory ? 

Helen. \ No, but 

Lulu. } Not that 

Cecil {interrupting hotly). Hyah let me tell ; yo* all 
haven't seen her anyheow. Yo' see, thar's a new arrival 



A FIGHTING CHANCE. 7 

Mabel. Not a schoolgirl at this time ? 

(As Cecil explains, Madeline, after vain endeavors to keep 

awake y falls asleep R., front. Helen brings out her 

jacks and commences to play on table. Lulu watches 

Cecil.) 

Cecil. Yas, and she's not tew young, either; and of co'se 

I reckon they'll put her with us seniors, right quick, and it s a 

shame, that's what it is, if we all could just ^ 

Helen. Madame said you were to stop saying « you all 
and " we all " every time you spoke. It's not elegant. 

Cecil. I reckon I'll say just what I please, besides I'm no 
mo' Southe'ner than madame, except in my talk. This whole 
school's mostly South. Yo' all (girls laugh) like the South, 
and Mabel there she's the hottest of any against the Yanks. 

Mabel. Well, I guess I ought to be. Even if I did live in 
the North a-lot, all my relatives are fighting down here. 
(Lulu starts to tease Madeline and wake her up. Helen 
plays with jacks again.) Anyhow I hope this girl isn't an- 
other Northerner to contaminate us. Oh ! I don't mean any 
of you. 

Enter Ruth, c. ; girls glance at each other. 
Ruth. Cecil, does thee know where the new girl is? 
Madame asked me to take charge of her. 

Cecil (ungraciously). No, I don't, an' I don t keer. 
Yo' all needn't bring her roun' hyah to introduce. 

[Exit Ruth, l. 

Lulu. Speak of angels ! 

(Girls laugh; Mlle. Fordet listens unseen by girls at 
middle door.) 

Cecil. I knew yo' meant her. That little idiot Quaker. 
The new one must be a Yank tew, or madame would have sent 
some of us to take keer of her. 

Helen, Yes, one of them will spoil our nice little clique, 
let alone two. . 

Cecil. What ! Sur'ly yo' haven't stopped playm jacks. 
You do make me so tired. Can't yo' ever leave them 
home? 

Madeline (sweetly). Ach ! Gut, that's vat I myself say. 
(Girls laugh.) 

Cecil. Well, I jes' wish we all could get rid of both of em, 
I reckon we'll make it tew hot for 'em anyheow. 



8 



A FIGHTING CHANCE. 



Helen. I tell you what, we'll have an intrigue with 
mad'm'selle at the head. Put her on the track, she's our friend 
and snoops into everything. Shouldn't wonder if she were here 
now. 

{Girls laugh and look around, Mlle.'s head withdrawn; 
exit.) 

Mabel. It's queer that madame doesn't see what a sneak 
she is. I wouldn't trust her in anything. 

Others. Nor I. {Bell rings.) 

Helen. Come on, Madeline, time for class. 

Madeline (rousing). Ya, madame, I vant mein photo- 
graphs to be took last week. (Laughter.) 

Cecil. Yas, my dear, yo' should hev had it done, for yo're 
growin' mo' hideous every day. (Shakes her.) 

Madeline. Eh ? What ? 

Helen. Come on, Madeline, you just forgot your English 
in your sleep. It's class time for all of us anyway. 

[Exit c, Mabel and Helen dragging off Madeline. 

Lulu (putting arm around Cecil). Who is this new girl, 
Cecil? 

Cecil. Don't kneow, but she looks terr'ble glum. 

Lulu. Don't you think it's queer for her to be sent now in 
the midst of this awful war, when most of the girls have gone 
home? (Cecil nods.) Cecil, dear, what do you think North- 
ern soldiers look like ? 

Cecil. Awful wicked. Yo' all never saw one, chile ? Look 
like great big bears and lions. Eat yo' up, chile. 

Lulu. Oh ! I'm so afraid — you're fooling, Cecil, aren't 
you? 

Cecil (laughing). I'm not afraid. (Rolls up sleeves.) I 
reckon I ken fight 'em. It only takes one Southe'ner to whip 
ten Yanksees, anyheow. 

Lulu (getting closer). You know I have no real home now, 
and I'd be so afraid here without you. Are they going to send 
for you, Cecil ? 

Cecil. No, live too far away. Safer hyah. (Thought- 
fully.) Wish I was a man, I'd go to war, tew. 

Lulu (starts nervously). Oh ! You wouldn't Cecil, would 
you ? Anyway, I hate that new girl because you do. I love 
you, Cecil. (Cecil kisses her. ) 

Cecil. Well, little girl, when we can't stay hyah any mo' 
I'll take yo' all right back to my house, if yo'll come. 

Lulu. Really, Cecil? Oh! — - 



A FIGHTING CHANCE. 9 

Both {looking around). Oh ! there's madame. 
Cecil. And class will be half over. Hurry ! 

[Exit both hurriedly, c. 

Enter Madame andyiiAX.., l. 

Madame. Well, mad'moiselle, although I cannot really own 
to being so distrustful as you, still I have my own suspicions 
in regard to this new pupil. She would tell me nothing but 
that her mother has just died, and that her father is sending 
her here for safety. Indeed that is what he says in his letter, 
but part of it mystifies me. Listen and see what you can make 
of it. {Reads from letter.) "My dear Madame: I have 
decided to place my daughter, Eleanore, under your care at 
once. You will find her, in all probability, older than the 
majority of your pupils, but there is still much for her to learn, 
and this is no safe place for a young girl to stay. She is to be 
entirely subservient to all rules of the school, to be directly 
under your supervision, and I must insist on one thing — she 
shall receive no mail whatsoever. In fact she is to have no 
communication with the outside world in any way. We are 
very warm Southerners, and therefore one with yourself in the 
cause. With this I forward the sum of, etc., etc. Respect- 
fully yours, E. S. Hamilton." So you see, my dear mad'- 
moiselle, the more I read that, the more I feel there is some 
accompanying mystery. She seems like such a charming 

Mlle. Ah ! Madame, do not trust ze face ; sometime it 
it ees a — vat you call — a mask. I do not trust zat girl, and I 
wish you would return her back home again. {Aside.) Zat 
is one big little hit for ze young ladies. 

Madame. Mad'moiselle, I scarcely think you mean what you 
say. Of course it is probably true that the girl has as she 
said, lost her mother. She looks so sad sometimes it almost 
makes me creep. At first I thought she was in love or, per- 
haps, of a gloomy, morbid temperament, but she has such a 
sweet smile, and 

Mlle. I sink zat madame vill regret, but it ees not my out- 
look, it ees zat of madame. 

Enter Cecil, Helen, Mabel, Lulu, excitedly at door a; as 
they talk Eleanore enters much agitated, with Ruth trying 
to comfort her. A little later Madeline crawls slowly in 
and stands against wall, nods head, and finally goes to sleep 
slipping on chair at rear. Helen shakes bag of jacks in 
hand. 



10 A FIGHTING CHANCE. 

Madame (as they enter). Young ladies, what does this 
mean? 

Cecil. I'll not stay if yo' all keep 

Mabel. Madame, this is too much I . Together ) 

Lulu. Oh, madame, she's an awful Yankee « 



Helen. How dare she 



Madame {silencing them). One at a time, one at a time. 

Cecil (with temper). I'll not stay a day mo' in a school 
with low down Yankee white trash. 

Madame. Cecil, silence at once or go to your room. 
Mabel, what is all this about? 

Mabel. Madame, this young woman, who wishes us to be- 
lieve her a lady, has come to this school, whose Southern sym- 
pathies are well known, with a damaging witness against her hid- 
den in her trunk. 

Madame. And what do you know of another's trunk? 

Mabel (a little abashed). Well — well — you know, ma- 
dame, our trunks must go to the garret, and Rosy was making 
ready Miss Hamilton's room as she was folding and putting 
away her clothes, and saw her take out of her trunk and 
fold 

Mabel. ^ 

Cecil*' f A Yankee soldier suit ! 

Lulu. J 

Madeline (sleepily). Ein zankee yolder zute ! (Mlle. 
looks triumphant. ) 

Madame (severely). Miss Hamilton, kindly explain. 

Eleanore (with great dignity). I did not expect this was 
a school where one's every action was spied upon. 

Madame. No words, please. 

Eleanore (a little confused). My brother was in the 
Union army, and 

Cecil (sneering). An' is this yo're brother's picture? 

Eleanore (angrily). Give it me. How dare you? 

(Tries to snatch picture, but is unable. Cecil hands it to 
Madame, who waves it aside. Mlle. procures it, looks 
at it, starts, then returns it to Cecil.) 

Madame. No ! I do not wish to see others' belongings, 
and I too demand to know how you procured a photograph 
belonging to one who is almost a total stranger. It is outra- 
geous. (Cecil starts forward, but Mabel pulls her*back.) 

Helen (emphasizing with jacks). Madame, really it isn't 



A FIGHTING CHANCE. II 

our fault about that. It dropped from Miss Hamilton's things 
at the side of her trunk. Rosy picked it up and showed it to us 
just for fun, then Cecil kept it because some one called Rosy 
away ; but we did not mean to say anything about it. 

Madame. Cecil, return it to the owner immediately. 

Cecil {returns picture ; steps back). I don't think she has 
explained any tew much. 

Eleanore. And I refuse to explain to any one here except 
madame herself. (Mlle. displeased.) 

Madame. Miss Hamilton's request shall be granted. To 
your classes, young ladies ; I will speak to you later about 
your part in this affair. Helen, you may leave your jacks with 
me. 

(Helen does so with wry face. Girts exeunt c. Helen 
pulls sleepy Madeline along at the last by her braid of 
hair. ) 

Madame. Mad'moiselle, you also may go. 

[Exit Mlle., displeased. 

Madame (taking Eleanore's hand). Now, poor child, 
tell me sufficient to put my mind at rest. Do not be afraid 
of me. 

Eleanore (agitated). You have been so kind to me, a 
stranger, madame, and Ruth is so good to me also. Without 
you both I could not have stood the censure of the girls. 

Madame. Poor child, it was slander I knew, but they did 
not mean it ; they are only young and impetuous. But pro- 
ceed 

Eleanore. What I shall tell you, madame, must be for 
yourself alone. My father is a very proud man, and his affairs 
he considers his own, and so I will merely tell you enough to 
have you understand and not blame me too much. 

Madame. My dear little girl, I know and feel that you are 
innocent, and assure you that you shall have my sympathy and 
help. 

Eleanore. And may I ask you one question first? I 
hardly dare tell you until I do. 

Madame. And what is it ? 

Eleanore (glancing about). Madame, the girls have al- 
ready expressed doubts in my presence or this liberty I would 
not dare to take, but madame — are you for — do you sympathize 
with the North or the South ? 

Madame (with a slight reserve). Miss Hamilton, you 
know what my school is, can you not j udge ? 



12 A FIGHTING CHANCE. 

Eleanore. Oh ! Madame, perhaps it is needful, indeed, 
that you do not commit yourself to others, but surely you have 
some love for either the blue or the gray 

Madame. This is merely wasting time ; continue with your 
story. 

Eleanore {sighs, pauses, and then continues'). My mother 
was a Northern woman. Oh ! — I cannot speak of her ! My 
father, who is an austere man in all things, is more than severe 
in regard to his loyalty to the South, and will allow nothing to 
come between him and what he considers his patriotic duty. 

Madame. Have you always lived South ? 

Eleanore. No, my brother and I were educated in Phila- 
delphia, mamma spending much time with us there. At last 
Eric entered West Point to take up the military education 
which father wished him to have ; but when the war broke out, 
instead of returning to enlist for the South, he went with a 
Northern regiment. 

Madame {sits). And your mother was living then? 

Eleanore {controlling agitation ; sits also). Yes, mamma 
was living, and of course sympathized with the North, but 
papa — oh ! I never could speak of his awful anger. He dis- 
owned Eric at once, and never would allow us even to mention 
his name before him. He said, moreover, and how well I re- 
member his saying it, that no Yankee soldier should ever enter 
his house. 

Madame. And did your brother never return ? 

Eleanore. Yes, madame, he was brought home shot, with 
some wounded rebel soldiers to whom the house was ever 
open. He — he died with mamma standing near him. Papa 
never knew he was there, and then mamma, never very strong, 
gave out too — and then — {Puts handkerchief to face, bows head 
on table.) 

Madame {very much moved). Poor little motherless, brother- 
less girl. You need say no more. Your father and you now 
have nothing in common, and he has sent you away. I see it 
all, and this suit of faded blue is all that is left you. {Ris- 
ing and aside.) And yet why should she have no communica- 
tion with the outside world. But she is too agitated now. 

Eleanore {rising). Madame, have I satisfied you ? 

Madame. Yes, dear child. Your life is entirely loveless, 
is it not? (Eleanore starts as if to reply ; then looks away.) 
But now I must tell you that your father has written me very 
stringently concerning your privileges here. 

Eleanore {bitterly). And what has my father asked? 



A FIGHTING CHANCE. 13 

Madame. He has received our assurance that you will have 
no communication whatsoever with the outside world while you 
remain with us. (Eleanore starts.} You will receive no one 
and no word by mail. 

Eleanore. Oh ! Madame ! 

Madame. You will see that you are to be under strict sur- 
veillance ; however, Eleanore, this is really too hard, and if 
you will do one thing 

Eleanore {quickly). And what is that ? 

Madame. Give us your word of honor that under no cir- 
cumstances — — 

Eleanore (defiantly). Madame, if you trust me, you trust 
me ; if not, then do as you wish with me ; but I will not be 
bound down by any promises. It was not my w,ish to be sent 
here and 

Madame. Eleanore, you will not try to leave this place ? 
That would not be easy you know. Think this over, dear 
child, for I cannot worry you further when you are so troubled. 
Come now, you must go to your room and dress, your eyes are 
quite red with weeping. (Eleanore turns to go and Madame 
calls her back.) Eleanore, the walls themselves have ears. I 
hardly know whether or not I dare speak openly even to you, 
but 

Rosy {entering r.). A man to spake wid yer, ma'm, at 
wanct, and immejit, if you plaze. 

Eleanore {aside). I wonder who he is. 

Madame. Oh ! very well, Rosy. [Exit r. 

Rosy. I'm sorry, miss, that I took the pixture, and made 
all that trouble for yez, for I loike yer swate face, that I do — 
only I thought ye were jist loike the rest, and a good joke 
niver hurrts any of thim. I hopes ye' 11 fergive me. 

Eleanore {kindly). Certainly I will, Rosy; I'm sure you 
meant me no harm. And, Rosy, will you come and bring me 
some hot water ? I have a slight headache and want to bathe 
my eyes. 

Rosy (both moving toward door l.). Yis, you pore darlint, 
thet I will, and if I ken git thet black nagger out av my way, 
Oi'll make ye some tay loike me great grandmither used to 
make. [Exeu?it both l. ; meet Juliet en- 

tering l. as they go out. Business. 

Juliet {crossing stage to door r.). Po' white trash. 

[Exit r. 

Mlle. {enter c. ; looks i?i and around, steps in a little at a 
time, finally comes front.) I sought I heard ze voices. {Lis- 



H 



A FIGHTING CHANC£. 



tens again.) No one seems wizin. I wonder where rat little 
vixen is. Cette mechante fille ! Eleanore Hameelton ees it ? 
I believe her not at all in anysing. Ah ! sacre bleu ! And 
was zat her brozere in ze picture— eh ? Non— non— for I gazed 
upon it well wiz my two eyes. Ah ciel ! Who ees eet — eh ? 
Eet ees no relatif— no — ce n'est pas son frere — eet ees not her 
brozere — eet ees ze cocher — ze man who drives — who brings 
zat wicked bad girl from ze station to here. I saw him — wiz 
my two eyes. Ah ! He ees in league wiz her — wiz Mees 
Eleanore Hameelton. I — Mad'moiselle Aimee Fordet, say eet. 
He ees and she ees vat you call — ze spies. {Becoming very 
dramatic.') And — parbleu ! ve are betrayed. 



QUICK CURTAIN. 



ACT II. 

SCENE. — Time is one week later. Study room, neatly fur- 
nished. Tables down l. and up r. Chairs, etc. Doors R., 
l. and c. Easy chair down r. 

Eleanore (at table, down l., writing at intervals)'. She 
promised to meet me here, and it is after time now. ( Writes.) 
She is a darling if she is black. (Looks at watch.) It only 
lacks a little while until the bell rings, and then the girls will 
come trooping in here for study hour, and I must have it this 
morning." I didn't sleep a wink last night, fearing lest some- 
thing had happened, and when one has nothing else left in the 
world to live for but — (Glances around apprehensively.) 
Oh dear ! I feel so anxious, and for a girl who has no nerves 
I am like a scared cat. (Writes again.) Anyway, after I do 
receive it, I'll send this that I have been writing for a week, 
just adding something to it. Madame knows I'm not to write 
letters and she watches me like a hawk. Oh ! (Hastily 
crumples paper.) Thought I heard something. {Examines 
room ; snaps watch.) Where can she be? {Goes to door c. 
and listens ; returns and smoothes letter on table.) I wonder 
why mad'moiselle dislikes me so. Well, it's mutual, only I be- 
lieve she could be nice if she wasn't making a detective agency 
out of herself. I'll read this again. (Starts to read letter.) 
" My dear — " (Hears some one coming; claps hand to mouth 
and hastily folds letter and thrusts it in pocket of dress. 
Enter Juliet, r., stealthily, first looking around, Eleanore 
showing eagerness.) Oh ! come right in, Juliet, I've been so 
worried about you. 

Juliet. Not 'bout me, I reckon, miss. Guess yo' all 
wanted what I hab do' fo' sartin. 

Eleanore. Oh ! give it to me quick, Juliet, and I'll put it 
in my dress, then you must tell me all about it. If any one 
comes, remember you are going to get me a cup of tea. I 
have a headache. (Juliet looks incredulous.) Indeed I 
have, a very bad one. You see I couldn't sleep last night for 
(lowering voice) I knew this ought to come. 

Juliet. Tears to me that yo' want it berry bad, miss. Fust, 



l6 A FIGHTING CHANCE. 

you must tell me wha' it from, fo' I dun hab got my orders, 
consarnin' yo\ 

Eleanore. Oh ! aunty, give it to me at once and don't be 
so foolish. Didn't you promise 

Juliet. Neber min', honey; here, yo' ole black Jullie lubs 
yo\ Take it. (Gives her letter which Eleanore snatches, 
looks at, and hides in bosom of dress. ) Tell me de res' when 
yo' got it hid. 

Eleanore. There isn't much I can tell you, aunty, except 
(leaning closer) it's an important matter from one of " Massa 
Lincoln's" soldiers. 

Juliet. Oh ! missy, it's all right, den, an' I don't keer what 
dey say. But it worries pore young missy sho' 'nuff, it gibs 
her a heap ob keer. I had a heap ob keer once, I had a hus- 
ban', a bu'ful husban', — him dead now ; I had a li'le boy, such 
a bu'ful li'le black boy— him dead too. Ain't got no keer 
now — nice to hab no keer. 

Eleanore (who has been glancing around furtively and 
fingering letter in dress anxiously). Aunty, I thank you so 
much, you'll never know how much, but I'll repay you some 
day, surely. Now, I'm going to my room with this tooth- 
ache 

Juliet. Headache, missy. 

Eleanore. Yes — yes, headache, that's what I said. (Juliet 
shakes head negatively.) Oh! didn't I? Well I really have 
one, you know, and you'll bring me that cup of tea very soon, 
won't you, aunty, and then you know if I should have a letter 
for you to take out and give to somebody — and oh ! Why 
you haven't told me a thing about how you obtained this one. 

Juliet {mysteriously). Well, yo' see, missy, I 'tains it like 
dis. I goes 'bout de time yo' tol' me, down back in de woods 
near dat ole pine tree wid de hole in it, an' all ob a sudden I 
see a 

Eleanore. Sh ! I must run j there comes some one. 

[Exit l. 

Juliet (dusting chairs with apron). An' as I was jes' a 
cummutatin' to myself, (Mlle. enters c. a?id listens) do' I's 
treated bountiful good by dat kin' and lobely madame an' 
'specially by dat berry fine and knowin' missus dat is a 
Frencher an' says Poblie voo — as I was accenteratin', dey wuz 
suttenly good to dis po' black nigger; but de massas and 
missuses dat de rest ob my po' fambly hab — dey is terr'ble, 
sho' 'nuff. An' — why is yo' hyah, mabumezelle? How eber 
did yo' come, an' Juliet neber know'd it. 



A FIGHTING CHANCE, 1 7 

Mlle. I sought you talk wiz some one. Non ? No one ees 
here. 

Juliet. Jes' talkin' to maself, maburnezelle. Yo' see when 
I's alone I hab nuffin' else to do but sing an' talk when I's 
workin'. Maburnezelle like a nice bit ob sho't kake, jes' 
from de oben, hot wid butter, an' a li'le pinch ob tea? 

Mlle. {rubbing her hands). Ah ! oui, eet ees excellente. 
{Aside. ) Juliette ees my friend, she is my — how you say — 
'complice! {Aloud.) Juliette, ici, vill do me von favour? 
(Lowering voice.) Eet ees neccessarie zat I find out a wicked 
girl — ah ! ver' wicked. Vill Juliette help mad'moiselle who has 
ze tres prettie ribbons zat Juliette vill find is for she ? 

Juliet {looking up). Sho' 'nuff. Juliet will do eberyting 
fo' maburnezelle, dat's de berry truf. 

Mlle. Juliette, zis wicked girl — some one come for she, 
mayhaps, and mayhaps a lettere — to-day. Eef so, who get zis 
lettere. Rosy ? Non — Juliette ? Ah ! Juliette bring eet to 
mad'moiselle. Ees eet not so ? 

Juliet. Yaas, indeedy. If yo' Aunt Juliet see anyting like 
dat, she'll neber gib it to dat Eleanore Hablington — neber, fo' 
a minute, in co'se she won't. Got dem ribbons 'bout yo', 
maburnezelle ? 

Mlle. Non. Mais Juliette, send me to Mees Madeline, ze 
sleepy enfant, and Juliette, come to my room 'fore ver' long. 

Juliet. Berry well ; maburnezelle may be sho' dat I'll be 
dere. {Aside, as she goes out.) Guess I ain't no fool nudder. 
Young missy hab her letter ; black Julie' 11 soon hab her ribbon. 
If I dun oderway, maburnezelle might been sumspicious. 

[Exit, r. 

Mlle. Ah ! Juliette is one ver' good negresse — Juliette 
ees on mad'moiselle's side. Ze little innocente Germaine on 
mad'moiselle's side, and on ze back of it all, ze whole school, 
ver' near. And zat wicked Eleanor — zat spy — zat — vat you 
call — zat — zat traitore — ah ! ve vill bring her into ze dust. 

Madeline {entering l., sleepily). Ach ! Fraulein, hier 
bin Ich. 

Mlle. Ah ! Ze prettie child. Mad'moiselle has lovely 
orange for Madeline. Here ees eet. {Hands orange.) 

Madeline {curtesy ing). Ich danke ihnen. 

Mlle. Ah ! now ma prettie enfant, mad'moiselle would so 
love to have Madeline help. (Madeline begins to grow 
sleepy, and continues gradually to fall asleep while Mad'moi- 
selle talks, with her face averted fro?n the child.) Zis school 
ees so prettie and all are so ver' content, it would be so great 



l8 A FIGHTING CHANCE. 

shame eef all ees spoil. Ah ! Oui, petite enfant. {Lowering 
voice ; looking around room, sees Madeline almost asleep, 
shakes her.~) Ah ! She listen not. {Shakes her harder.) 
Ah ! Ze wicked, bad, bad, wretched enfant. 

Madeline. Ach ! Fraulein, Ich shleep not. Ach ! 
Fraulein — ach ! 

Mlle. Listen, Madeline. {Same business, looking around 
room and Madeline going to sleep in chair down r.) In zis 
school ees a spy — maybe two spy. Ah ! it ees terreeble. Vill 
Madeline help mad'moiselle ? Madeline vill not be — how you 
call — expected — non, suspected, because she ees so much a 
little sleepy child. Ees eet not so? 

(Madeline snores gently.) 

Mlle. Ah ! Parbleu ! ( Wringing hands ; enter Helen, 
c, swinging jacks.) She shall be ze death of me. She sleeps 
always all ze time. 

Helen (laughing). Why, what is the matter, mad'moiselle, 
don't you feel like yourself? 

Mlle. Ah ! Eet ees ze little Madeline, zis terreeble 
enfant. 

Helen. Oh ! There's no use trying to make her do any- 
thing for you. Just listen to her now. (Madeline breathes 
heavily.) Can't I help you, mad'm'selle, or would you like 
to play ? 

(Spreads game on table up r.) 

Mlle. Non — non ; misplace zem back. Eet ees not al- 
lowed, Mad'moiselle Helene. Madame gives ze jackets back, 
eh ? Ah ! Vill you help me ? 

Helen. Certainly, what can I do? 

Mlle. (quickly). Eet ees about zis Eleanore Hameelton. 
Ze ees a wicked 

Helen. Now, look here, mad'moiselle, I don't like her 
much and I'm sorry she came, and we girls do not intend to 
have anything to do with her, nevertheless I for one am not 
going to sneak around trying to find mean things about other 
people. If she oughtn't to be here, let madame find it out and 
send her home. 

Enters., Rosy, and Juliet r. 

Rosy. Shure'n the madame wants ye, ma'msille, at onct, 
immajit, in the library. 



A FIGHTING CHANCE. IO, 

Juliet, Madame wants yo', mabumezelle, in the 

(They see each other, business.*) 

[Exit Mlle. c, Rosy l. and Juliet r. 

Helen. My, how those girls do -fight. Anyway I wish 
this war was over. It makes everything so hard. Mamma's 
sick and papa's losing everything. I can't get home and — 
{Draws hand across eyes.) Oh ! Why not teach Madeline 
my little game? {Calls.) Oh! Madeline — Madeline! 
[Goes up and screeches in ear.) Madeline ! 

Madeline {starting up). Nein, madame. I vas not all 
ashleep. I vas shust 

(Helen laughs ; Madeline rubs eyes and laughs good- 
naturedly.) 

E?iter Cecil, Lulu and Mabel l. 

Helen. Oh, hello ! I wish yOu girls would help me wake 
Madeline, or better still, play jacks with me. 

Mabel. No, thanks, we've had enough jacks. 

Cecil. Yaas, and I've got one of my own, only he's 
fightin' now. 

Lulu. Oh ! girls, do you know they say the soldiers are 
marching up in this direction, and that the Yankees are around 
somewhere near, and I'm awfully frightened. Just suppose 
they'd fight near our school. 

Cecil. Pooh ! I'd jes' go out and get ahold of the bes' 
lookin' Johnny Reb I could, and after the battle we'd go off 
and git married, and I'd be a proud lady with a long satin train. 

Mabel. Sometimes you are too ridiculous for words, 
Cecil. 

Lulu. Do you know I don't believe Eleanore Hamilton will 
be here long ? Madame sent for her to come to her room, and 
since mad'moiselle — why — But, Cecil, then Helen hasn't 
heard the news. 

(Madeline rouses up.) 

Helen. Well, what is it? 

Mabel, j Somebod y saw a s Py- 
Cecil. Yes, a man skulkin' 'bout this hyah school. 
Helen. Oh, pshaw ! How do they know he was a spy ? 
Lulu. Well, he looked like it. 

Helen. Why, did you see him? You'd think a toad- 
stool was a spy if you met it alone on a dark night. 



20 A FIGHTING CHANCE. 

Cecil. Yo' see, mad'moiselle saw this hyah spy. 

Helen. Then I think it is an idle tale, for mad'moiselle be- 
lieves she's ferreting out a horrible murder case or something, 
and when she's started she's worse than a little fox terrier after 
a rabbit. 

Lulu (seriously). Do you know I believe she looks like a 
fox terrier. 

All. Why Lulu ! 

Mabel. Well, I'll tell you one thing; it seems to me that 
Eleanore Hamilton has more than one friend in this school. 

Cecil. Of co'se, there's the Quaker. 

Helen. And Madeline ? (All turn and look ; fi?id her 
asleep again ; laugh.) Or Juliet? 
• Mabel. No, I don't mean them. 

Cecil (speaking quickly). Yo' su'tunly doanV 
mean 



Lulu. You can't mean 



( Together. ) 



Helen. Oh ! Mabel, you aren't thinking 
of 

Mabel. Well — who? 

All (softly). Madame? (Girls look around frightened.) 

Mabel. Yes, madame. 

Helen. Oh ! nonsense. 

Mabel. Thank you, Miss Hastings, it isn't nonsense at all. 

Helen. Why, Mabel, Eleanore's not even allowed to go 
out alone. 

Mabel. But madame helps her with this or that, or she 
stays in her room with a headache, and Ruth or Juliet carries 
up her tea ; and now this man who has been spying 

Helen. Well, Mabel, I think you're getting like mad'moi- 
selle. You'll have to join her agency, Davis and Fordet, 
detectives. Bloodhounds and fox terriers to hire, loaded pistols 
not allowed and 

Mabel. Helen, I want you to understand that I'm not 
fooling. 

Lulu. Anyway, I move we all help get rid of her if she 
brings horrid spies around. 

Helen. There, I said you were afraid of a shadow. 

Lulu. I'm not afraid, and I'll just show you some time how 
brave I really am. I don't believe I'm afraid of any 

(Mlle. puts head in door c, finger to lips and gives a loud 
"Sh/" Girls all jump. Lulu screams and takes hold 
of Helen, going behind her.) 



A FIGHTING CHANCE. 21 



Enter Mlle. cautiously. 



Helen. What's the matter, mad' moiselle ? 

Mlle. Sh ! sh ! sh ! If ze young ladies would see wiz 
zere own eyelids, come quickly, at once — ver' quieet to my 
room. You shall see for what. Be ver' quiet; no one must 
know you have been in mad' moiselle' s room. Then return 
back here immediatement. 

[Exit c, Mlle. ; Mabel r. ; Cecil and Lulu l. 

Helen. Humph ! The little fox terrier is certainly on the 
scent. I guess it will prove a rat, though, instead of a rabbit. 
Well, I might as well see all there is to see — but if I stayed 
here I could have a little game. I'll just throw them out 
again. I won't really stay. {Spreads them .) Where was I? 
At threezems. Oh, dear ! I do want to play. 

Cecil {outside softly). Helen — hurry, hurry ! 

\_Exit r., Helen, leaving- bag and jacks on table. 

Madeline {rousing). Ach ! Wo sind sie alle? Alle gone. 
{Shrubs shoulders.) It vill be soon time for I to take mein — 
vat it is ? Ach ! my nap. I vill go zu my bett und shleep. 

[Exit l. 

Enter Madame, c. 

Madame. I trust Eleanore will come at once, for she must 
tell me to-day what I wish to know. I am greatly worried over 
the whole matter, and yet I feel myself growing more and more 
fond of her. {Sees jacks and gathers them up, fasteniiig bag 
to belt.) Well, here is a prize. I've been waiting for an ex- 
cuse to take possession of these again. Helen rattles them in 
one's ears so eternally that it becomes unbearable. {Enter 
Eleanore, c.) Ah ! Eleanore. Now, dear child, be just as 
brief as you wish, but tell me what I must know. 

Eleanore. And what is it, madame, that you would learn ? 

Madame. Eleanore, do not endeavor to circumvent me. 
Twice has there come a man to see you, a most soldierly-look- 
ing young fellow, I will add, and seemingly most honorable ; 
but he will tell me nothing, and is as mysterious as yourself. 
Eleanore, who is he, and why did he come ? 

Eleanore. How can I tell, madame, when you give me no 
name and no message, and at the time you had ordered me 
locked in my room. 

Madame. And yet, Eleanore, I could almost take my oath 
upon it that he looked up at your window as he left, and 
mad' moiselle says he gave some signal. Was it chance ? Elea- 



22 A FIGHTING CHANCE. 

nore, I insist and demand — how did he know your window, if 
he did. Have you communicated with him ? 

Eleanore. Madame has not yet told me who he is. 

Madame. Enough of this ; we are not playing. Have you 
written to him against my orders ? (A pause ; Eleanore gives 
no sign. Firmly). Answer at once. {Slight pause.) Have 
you nothing to say ? Only to-day I received word from your 
father, ordering that you be watched in a way that would sug- 
gest a prisoner of war. It seems ridiculous to me, and yet — 
unless you respond to my questions, what must I think? 
(Eleanore sighs wearily and shrugs shoulders.) Still you 
answer nothing. Then assuredly there is only one course for 
me to pursue. At present your father is within one day's jour- 
ney from here. I will go to him, Eleanore, do you understand? 
I will go to him and solve this puzzle for myself. 

Eleanore (anxiously). Surely, madame is not speaking 
seriously. 

Madame. I assure you that madame does not treat such 
matters lightly. If you cannot answer me within an hour, I 
shall start this afternoon. 

Eleanore. Oh ! madame, do not, I pray you, do not go 
to my father. If you make him angry, no telling to what 
lengths he may go. If he would kill me outright I would not 
care so much, but he only suggests such awful ways of putting 
me where I shall never see life or happiness again. It was 
only after days of pleading that I was sent to you. Oh ! ma- 
dame, do not go to my father. 

Madame. Eleanore, if you tell me what I have asked I will 
not go. 

Eleanore. Madame, dear madame, you do not know what 
you ask. It isn't possible. 

Madame. Then there is no use of further conversation. 

Eleanore. Can you not give me a respite ? Then truly, 
madame, in a few days you shall know all. 

Madame. Eleanore — shall I know it from you ? 

Eleanore (hesitating). Yes, madame. 

Madame. Then, Eleanore, I trust you again, and I wi)" 
postpone my visit for the present. 

Eleanore. Oh ! Thank you, thank you, dear madar ;, 
and whatever happens, even if it seem otherwise, I shall ,ill 
be worthy of your trust and love. 

Madame {kisses her). Dear child, I love you almost as an 
own daughter. You may go now ; I am satisfied. (Holds her 
from her by both hands, looks at her a moment ; Eleanore 



A FIGHTING CHANCE. 23 

sighs, then exit L.) I thought that only a girl in love could 
sigh like that. And yet she has had enough of other troubles. 
But why do I allow myself to become so foolishly fond of her, 
probably to be disappointed in the end. 
Enter Helen, r. 

Helen {startled ) . Oh ! (Sees jacks gone. ) 

Madame. Was there something you wanted, Helen ? 

Helen. Well, no, not exactly— you see— {Notices bag at 
Madame' s waist.) Oh ! (Sweetly.) Did you find my jacks, 
madame? You see, I was just counting them 

Madame. Helen, I know very well you were playing, and 
you know the limit I put upon your hours for indulgence. 
Now, if I give them back they must be put away for to-day. 
Remember, Helen, you are a child no longer. Why ! this is 
becoming a passion with you — now, will you promise ? 

Helen. Oh ! yes, madame. You see I miss the sound of 
them when they are left behind. 

Madame. Well, take them, for I must find mad'moiselle. 

Helen. Thank you, madame; and mad'moiselle is in her 
own room, and I think wants to see you. {Exit Madame, c. 
Shaking bag.) How good it is to hear the dear old things 
again. Too bad that I had to promise, for I wouldn't break my 
word for anything. {Shakes them again.) It doesn't seem to 
me as if they were all here. Surely, it's no sin to look. 
{Spreads them on table.) One, three, four, five, eight, nine, 
eleven, fifteen— right — where was I ? Oh ! Threezems. I 
could just take those three, and those three, and, oh, I must 
take those. 

{Tosses up jacks as Cecil and Mabel enter c.) 

Mabel. Well, I think it's a disgrace to the school. 

Cecil. An' hyar's another. I declare to goodness, Helen, 
yo've forgotten all about the real excitement already, and are 
at that fiendish game again. Whar's madame, anyheow? If 
she catches yo'. 

Helen. Oh ! I forgot all about madame. (Puts jacks 
away.) 

Enter Lulu, i . 

Lulu. Do you know, I'm terribly scared ? just think of 
that awful spy. Wasn't he dreadful-looking, with his hat 
drawn down and 

Cecil. I'll tell yo' all what I think. He's jes' as like as 
not the man in that picture Rosy found, 



24 A FIGHTING CHANCE. 

Helen. What nonsense ! He had great big shoulders, but 
that's all you could tell. Why, you couldn't see a smitch of 
his face. 

Enter Mlle. 

Mlle. Young ladies, ees eet not terreeble ? And madame 
has question Eleanore, but vill now soon question ze more and 
eef eet ees not satisfactoire, madame goes away on journey for 
two days and vill see Col. Hameelton, and zen — voila ! Ah ! 
I have my — vat you call — my handkercheef drop. 

Lulu. Here it is, mad'moiselle. 

{They go to back of stage ; business picking up handkerchief.} 

Cecil {at front of stage ; to Mabel). Mabel, if madame 
goes to-day, we all will have a big midnight supper to-morrow 
night. 

Mabel. Fine ! and when you and Helen go horseback rid- 
ing to-morrow, you can stop at the village and bring a lot of 
stuff to eat. 

Cecil. Yes, and yo' and Lu be out walkin' with yo're 
capes on and meet us and smuggle the things in. Sh ! 

Enter Rosy, l. 

Rosy {excitedly}. Kin I say madame at onct, immajit? 

Mlle. {aside; coming front, r.). Rosy has ze news. 
{Aloud.) Vill I not do, Rosy? 

Rosy. Yis, indade, but I must say you alone intoirely. 

Mlle. Young ladies, eet ees my wish to be alone. 

[Exeunt girls, r., disappointedly. 

Helen {turning back). Let us stay, mad'moiselle, we won't 
listen. 

Mlle. Go immediatement, Helene. {Exit Helen, shak- 
ing jacks.) Ze news, Rosy? 

Rosy. Och ! Did ye know thet ugly black naggur Juliet 
is a traither, indade ? 

Mlle. Eet ees imposseeble. I have just gave her ze prettie 
red ribbon for zat she vill help me. 

Rosy. Lidade, an' Oi'll tell yez how she does it. After 
the man what came before, was done spyin' round, I jist fol- 
lowed him down the path, unbeknownst, and when he come to 
the ould pine tray he stops, he does, and he waits — and I stops 
myself, I does, and I waits, only it's behint of another tray on 
the other soide av the road. Well — 



A FIGHTING CHANCE. %5 

Mlle, Queeck, queeck, Rosy, say eet queeck. 

Rosy. Well, Oi'm jist comin' to the excoitin' bit av adven- 
ture it was. He waits, and thin all av a suddint he says, soft 
like, " Juliet, Juliet — Hello, aunty." Then, sez Oi to meself, 
now ye'll say the doin's, Rosy Harrigin, but not a sowl come, 

Mlle. Zat ees what I say. 

Rosy. Och ! Shur'n jist wait. Somehow er ither Oi made 
a bit av a noise, and he looks 'round suspicious loike, and thin 
quick as a flash, but not too quick for me, Oi see him drop 
into the hole in the ould pine tray a letter. 

Mlle. A lettere ! Have you eet ? 

Rosy. Now, faith'n jist wait. Oi was just stayin' behint 
the tray for a whoile, till I say him shlink off in the bushes, 
and thin jist as Oi was goin' to cross the road, Oi heerd a noise 
and agin Oi waited a bit to see wot was the matter, and suddint 
thet naggur come out on the path and quick as a wink to the 
pine tray, and made a grab and fetched up somethin' white ; 

and 'fore Oi could say a worrd, she ran loike the loike all 

possissed fer the house, and so Oi jist thought Oi'd tell you 
she 

Mlle. Zat ees ver' right. Zis man ees a — vat you call — 
ac-complice of zat bad one, Eleanore Hameelton. I must tell 
madame immediatement. (Goes toward door c.) 

Rosy (aside). Eleanore Hamilton, is it? Ef Oi'd known 
it had something to do wid her, Oi'd niver told. She trated 
me square, thet she did. Besides she's a rale loidy, wan av 
thim thorrybreds, an' Oi ain't savin' so much fer the wan wid 
me now. 

(Juliet, with conspicuous red ribbon on, enters c. sees 
Mlle., screams and runs out.) 

Mlle. Juliette ! Juliette ! Ici immediatement. Rosy, 
bring her queeck. [Exit Rosy. 

Mlle. (triumphant). Now vill I get ze lettere and Mad'- 
meselle Fordet vill find out everysing wiz herself. 

Enter Juliet and Rosy ; Rosy stands at door grimacing for a 

moment. 

[Exit Rosy. 

Juliet. Mabumezelle sen' fo' me ? 
Mlle. Juliette, give me ze lettere, — immediatement. 
Juliet (innocently). I habn't got no letter. 
Mlle. Ver ees eet zen, answer. Ze lettere you fin' in ze 
tree. Rosy, see you find eet, 



26 A FIGHTING CHANCE. 

Juliet (aside). Dat fool ob a Rosy '11 get in trouble wid 
her Aunt Julie. Dat's de truf. {Aloud.') Oh ! Mabumezelle, 
I look for a letter from ma sweetheart, but de letter hab went 
sho'. 

Mlle. Zen you took eet, you black wretch. Take away 
zat red ribbon. I gif no more — I go fin' Mees Eleanore. 

Juliet. Habn't seen Missy Eleanore since early dis afte'- 
noon, so yo' see bein' as Rosy sed I jes' fin' it, I couldn't hab 
gib it to her. 

Mlle. Zen ver ees eet ? Queeck. I vill have zem zrash 
you 



Juliet. Oh land ! Mabumezelle I dun know nuffm' ob it, 
'cause I ain't got it. 

Mlle. I'll find Mees Hameelton zis minute. {Aside.) Eef 
I find madame all ze credit she vill get. Non — I vill do eet 
all myself. [Exit c. 

E?iter Eleanore, r. 

Juliet. Sh ! Mabumezelle jes' gone out to hunt yo' up. 

Eleanore. Oh ! Juliet, where's my letter? Everything 
depends on that. 

Juliet. Why, honey, ain't yo' got yo' letter yet ? 

Eleanore. Oh ! Juliet, what did you do with it ? 

Juliet. Yo' pore lamb — it's all right ; I gib it to Missy 
Ruth, 'cause I promise not to gib yo' anyting, and Rosy hab 
seen me take it, an' she done tole mabumezelle. 

Eleanore. Oh dear ! What will happen now ? Juliet, 
run right off and keep mad'moiselle away, for here comes Ruth. 

[Exit Juliet c. 

Enter Ruth r. 

Ruth. Where has thee been, Eleanore. I have had such a 
search for thee. 

Eleanore. Dearest Ruth, you are so good — but have you 
brought my letter ? 

Ruth. Yes, yes — but where can thee hide it? 

Eleanore. Here. I'll hide it with this other one in my 
dress. {Takes one from dress, and the otlier one from Ruth; 
places both in dress.) And Ruth dear, you have been such a 
sweet little sister when no one is kind to me here. (Holding 
both her hands.) 

Ruth. But I love thee, Eleanore, and I always will, 

and 

Enter Juliet 



A FIGHTING CHANCE. 27 

Juliet {excitedly). Sh ! Can't keep mabumezelle any 
longer — yo'd better run, fo' she's comin' sho'. 

[Exit Juliet, r. 
Enter Rosy c. 

Rosy. Indade Oi wouldn't hide Miss Eleanore, fer she's a 
comin' wid a candle and she's goin' to hunt the whole house. 

[Exit r. 

Eleanore. It will be best for you to go, Ruth. I'm not 
afraid of her, anyway. 

Ruth. I wish I could help thee, but farewell. \_Exit l. 

Eleanore. Now to be ready for the fray. What can I do, 
for the game's up if I'm found out before just so many hours. 
However, I might as well look calm. 

{Picks up book, sits l.; enter Mlle. c, with lighted candle 
mid with poker, very much excited, brandishing both.) 

Mlle. Ah ! Ees eet you at last. I have run you down. 
You can nosing do. 

Eleanore. Why, mad'moiselle, aren't you feeling well? 
Were you looking for me ? 

(Mlle. looks aghast while Eleanore takes poker and candle 
from her, putting candle, still lighted, on table l.) 

Mlle. Have you not from me run ? You wicked enfant. 

Eleanore. Why, no — why should I run from you ; and, 
mad'moiselle, why do you call me names? 

Mlle. Ah ! no need to circum — vat you call — circumlo- 
cate. I know eet all and I vill uncover you. 

Eleanore. I guess you mean discover. 

Mlle. No, I do not, and do not change ze subject. You 
know eet ees not allowed to receive ze lettere, so give me eet 
immediatement. 

Eleanore. Why, mad'moiselle, are you crazy ? What letter- 
do you mean ? 

Mlle. {coming close and hissing words'). I mean ze lettere 
zat ze spy put in ze tree; an' eef you do eet not I vill have 
Juliette whipped till she tell everysing. I have ze powere. 
Now, mad'moiselle Eleanore 

Eleanore (aside; walking away from Mlle). I have it — 
it's the only way and I will not have Juliet whipped. 

Mlle. Veil, mad'moiselle 

Eleanore, Mile. , you shall have the letter under one con* 
dition, 



28 A FIGHTING CHANCE. 

Mlle. {eagerly). What eez zat. I promise not ze — vat you 
call — secrecy. 

Eleanore. No, simply lock all the doors 
Mlle. {suspiciously). Vat you mean — vill you hurt me ? 
Eleanore ( disgusted). No, I will not touch you. 
Mlle. Ver' well, I do eet now. 

{As she locks door l., Eleanore goes swiftly to the table, 
places old opened letter which she received first in flame 
of candle. It should still be burning as Mlle. approaches 
door, c. She suddenly turns.) 

Mlle. Vat ees eet burns ? {Shrieks.) Ah ciel ! Ciel ! 

{She goes to snatch letter just as Eleanore drops ashes in 
the pan of the candle stick. Mlle. wrings her hands.) 

Eleanore. There, mad'moiselle, take your letter. I defy 
you to read it. You may think me what you wish, but I re- 
fuse to have my private letters read, and I have made madame 
no promise, as you know. 

Mlle. Ah ! Mon Dieu ! I am lost. Madame vill kill 
me. Ze — vat you call — ze proof ees vent. Ah ! Parbleu ! 
Parbleu ! ( Wringing hands. ) 

Enter Madame r. 

Madame. What does all this mean — this wailing, this 
candle, and the smell of something burning ? 

Mlle. {much excited). Ah ! Madame, ze spy was here 
and ze lettere ees burnt — burnt, I say, and all ees lost. 

Madame. Eleanore, explain immediately. 

Eleanore. Mad'moiselle found out that I received a letter 
to-day, she insisted on seeing it, and rather than that I burnt it 
as she was locking the doors. 

Madame. Oh ! Eleanore, Eleanore ! Mad'moiselle, go to 
your own room, and stay there until I come. How dared you 
interfere ? 

Mlle. But madame 

Madame. Go at once. {Exit Mlle. l., unlocking door.) 
Now, Eleanore, I will have nothing but the whole truth. Did 
you receive a letter this afternoon ? 

Eleanore. I did. 

Madame. And have you read it? 

Eleanore. I have not. 

Madame. And are these the ashes of this letter you re- 
ceived to-day ? 



A FIGHTING CHANCE. 2<) 

Eleanore. Yes, madame. 

Madame. Do you know from whom the letter came ? 

Eleanore. The letter was from a friend of my brother. 

Madame. Was it in regard to a public or private matter, 
and is he a spy or not ? 

Eleanore. I refuse to answer either of your questions. 

Madame. Eleanore, you had best be exceedingly cautious. 
What have you to say in regard to this afternoon's occurrences? 

Eleanore. Nothing, madame. 

Madame. Eleanore, I give you two minutes {takes out 
watch) in which to make up your mind. If at the end of that 
time you refuse to give me any satisfaction about this matter, I 
start in one-half hour for the present abode of your father. I 
shall time you from this moment. 

{Pause) tableau. Madame shuts watch with a snap.) 

Madame. Eleanore, what have you to say ? 

Eleanore. No more than previously. 

Mad ame {forgetting herself '). Oh! My poor dear child. 
Tell me all — do not destroy my love for you. I will be as 
your own mother — trust me — speak, Eleanore. 

Eleanore. Madame, I cannot, but 

Madame. I will hear you no further. I cannot make you 
out — you must be a perverse and wayward girl or a spy serving 
the government, and perhaps after all your father is right. At 
any rate it is best to acquaint him with the facts. I go to 
make ready for my journey and Ibid you good-bye. Remem- 
ber, you will be closely watched. 

( Waits for a sign from Eleanore ; receiving ?ione she 
sweeps from room, l.) 

Eleanore {glances around furtively, then drains unopened 
letter from dress). It was dreadful. I was afraid every min- 
ute lest I should slip in some way and lie about it. ( Opens let- 
ter.) It was lucky for me that both the letters came to-day, for 
I couldn't have lost this as it contains all the arrangements, 
and it's now or never. {Glancing over letter.) Oh ! I pray 
for courage and fortitude. {Looking at last of letter and 
reading.) " All is well, but it must be done as soon as possi- 
ble — the sooner the better, unless you are afraid — " (Rosy 
pops head in door l., and Juliet in door r.) No; I've been 
through too much already to fear now. If you are helping me, 
I am not afraid with the whole world against me. 

[Exit c. 



30 A FIGHTING CHANCE. 

Juliet and Rosy enter. 

Juliet. Pore lamb, her ole black aunty 

Rosy. The poor darlint. Oi'll help her. Oi will that 

(They see each other, turn backs to each other and start off 
stage r. and h.) 



QUICK CURTAIN. 



ACT 111. 

SCENE. — The Library. Entrances down r., up l., and c. 
Table up r., with lighted candelabrum and set with dishes 
which are covered with a shawl. Sofa down l., and several 
chairs about r 00171. Pictures on wall and bookcases against 
flat, r. and l.; lights dim, room ready for midnight feast. 
Cecil adding finishing touches, and Madeline gazing in- 
tently at a slip of paper. 

Cecil. Now, yo', Madeline, yo' understan' doan't yo' ? 

Madeline. Ja, fraulein. 

Cecil. An' yo' won't forget? 

Madeline. Nein, fraulein. 

Cecil. Yo'll never lam English. Say no. 

Madeline. No, fraulein. 

Cecil. Fraulein ! Yo' simple ! Cecil. 

Madeline {imitating). You simple Cecil. 

Cecil. Oh ! Yo' suttenly are Dutch, and I can't do any- 
thin' with yo'. Jes' listen to that there wind comin' up. I'll 
bet it's goin' to storm like all get out. Now yo', Madeline, I'll 
chop off yo' head, if yo' forget to stay awake and watch this 
hyah room. Mos' likely it's the las' feast we all '11 ever have, 
now the soldiers are gettin' so close. If yo' go to sleep ! 
That wind ought to keep yo' awake. Now doan't yo' all let 
any one in hyah. 

Madeline. Nein. 

Cecil. Nine ! Well, we all are goners if you open the do' 
to that many; but I mus' go. Mad'moiselle is havin' some of 
us up in her room fo' a while, an' if we all aren't there she'll 
suspect. Now be good — say what I wrote on the paper over 
an' over. It'll help yo' English. [Exit R. 

( Madeline looks around room, grows sleepy, rouses her- 
self and finally fixes her eyes on scrap of paper.) 

Madeline {shrugging shoulders). Ach Himmel ! 

Enter Lulu, l. 

Lulu {shivering). Ugh! What a night ! Good gracious ! 
What's the matter with her ? She's awake. Madeline ! 
(Madeline starts.) Do you know where Cecil is? 

3 1 



32 A FIGHTING CHANCE, 

Madeline (not taking eyes off paper). In French learner's 
room. 

Lulu. Oh! With mad'moiselle? And she left you to 
watch; but you'll never see anything that way. Why don't 
you take your eyes off that paper ? Are they glued there ? 
(Pause.) What's on it? (Stamps foot.) 

Madeline. Sometings zu not vorgessen. 

Lulu. Oh ! you're not to forget what's on it. Well, what 
are you to do with it ? 

Madeline. Shpeak it alle over und over. 

Lulu. Say it over and over. What's on it? 

Madeline. Ach ! (Looks at it and shakes her head.) 
Ich vergesse. (Passes it to Lulu.) 

Lulu. W T hy, Madeline. (Laughs.) Did Cecil tell you to 
do this ? 

Madeline. Ja. 

Lulu. Well, this is what you are to say. 

Madeline. Vas ? 

Lulu (reading from paper). I will not go to sleep. 

Madeline. Oh ! Ja — Ja. I vill not go to shleep. 

(Repeats several times ; walks over a?id sits on sofa as Lulu 
exitR., laughing.) 

Lulu. Well, good-bye. Don't forget. [Exit r. 

Madeline. Nein. Ach! Was it is? Ich vergesse. How 
foolishness. I vill not — not go to shleep. Ach ! The vind 
blows, — I vill not go to shleep. (Business, until she finally 
succu?nbs and slumbers.) I vill not go to shleep. I vill not 
zu shleep go. Ich vill not schlafen. Ach ! Nein — I vill nicht 
zu schleep gehen. Ich vill not zu schlaf go. Ich vill nicht — 
nicht zu schlaf gehen — vill — nicht — nicht — schleep — schlaf — 
schlaf — schlaf. (Sleeps on sofa.) 

Enter Eleanore, c, dressed in Union army suit, gazing cau- 
tiously about. 

Eleanore (subdued voice). Ruth, Ruth — where are you ? 
(Comes front.) I wonder where little Ruth can be, for I must 
see her at once. How this wind storm deadens other sounds. 
It's almost eerie to-night. (Looking around.) Why this must 
be the room where the feast is to be — but it isn't near midnight 
yet. I'm glad they did not invite me. I have a little sociable 
of my own on hand, and I'm ready for my party, storm or no 
storm. Hurrah ! (Sees Madeline.) Oh ! thank goodness, 
she's in the arms of Morpheus. Now that doesn't sound well 
in a boarding school. Well — I must look for Ruth elsewhere 



\ FIGHTING CHANCE. 



33 



evidently. {Walks toward door r., and meets Ruth coming 
in.) Oh ! Here you are, dear, where have you been? 

Ruth {excitedly). Hunting all over for thee, Eleanore. Is 
thee all ready, and is thee really going to wear that and such a 
fearsome night too ? Oh ! I am so fearful lest aught befalls. 
Thee must come away now, for the girls will be — {Sees Made- 
line.) Oh! Who's that? 

Eleanore. No cause for worry. Just Madeline, sound 
asleep, and I'm going to stay here until I've said good-bye to 
you, dearest Ruth. You know my room's locked. I'm in bed 
with one of those headaches to-night. {Laughs.) 

Ruth. Yes, and no one is watching thee here inside, for 
all think thee quite ill ; and I've sent Rosy off, and mad'moi- 
selle is having the girls in her room in honor of their good be- 
havior in madame's absence. 

Eleanore. Oh ! don't talk about me, little girl, I'm all 
right, though a little fearful too, for it's this or nothing. 
Failure this time means — but I don't intend to fail, and the 
darkness to-night is no hindrance either. 

Ruth. If only I might help thee more. But when this 
awful war is over I will go to thy father and in some way make 
myself useful to him, and after he has learned to trust, perhaps 
care for my care of him, I will tell him and plead with him, 
and I'm sure he will relent and love thee once again. 

Eleanore {taking her hand). Dear little Ruth. It is 
hopeless, I fear, but I love you more for your kind thought. 
You are such a gentle soul. I will try to send you word some- 
time, if we ever succeed in breaking through the lines. It's 
dangerous work you know — for spies. {Laughs.) 

Ruth. But thee still has much time. It's not even mid- 
night yet, and madame away. 

Eleanore. Listen, Ruth. I have a premonition, and I 
always believe in my forebodings. Madame will return before 
to-morrow. You see, if she could get any word to my father, 
he would come part way to meet her ; besides, although father 
can pass her through the rebel lines, still, if she does not 
hasten, she will never be able to get by the Union troops who 
are blocking the way in different directions. She will learn 
about this and force the journey. There, Madeline stirred, I 
must go and hide until my time. Good-bye, sweet little friend. 
{Kisses her tenderly.) A kind Providence watch over you. 

Ruth. Ah ! Fare thee well, Eleanore. God grant to take 
thee safe through this perilous night. Farewell. 

\Exit Eleanore, c. 



34 A FlGHTftfG CtfAMCE. 

(Ruth stands a moment as if * dazed, then hastily makes 
exit, R., with hands covering face. ~) 

Madeline {stirs sleepily and murmurs). I vill not tu 
schleep go. I vill not — zu — go {Sleeps again.) 

Enter Juliet, rushing in c, intensely frightened. 

Juliet. Oh ! de angels presarb us ! What hab I saw ? 
What hab I saw ? ( Growing calmer and making voice myste- 
rious.) What hab dis chile saw wif her own eyes ? A appru- 
tion. A sojer miles high. A ghos' ob one ob Massa Lincoln's 
sojers shot tro' de heart. {Voice growing lower.) Who does 
I tink it war? Sho' 1 dun know, but dar's quare doin's goin' 
on 'round hyah, and it's a terr'ble night an' blows de spirruts 
'round an' 'round ; but I dun say nuffin' now. Does yo' heah 
dat, Julie? {Rattles coin in pocket.) He ! he ! whare yo' get 
dat? Missy Eleanore — sho' — no, I ain't hyar nor see nuffin', 
jes' hab a spasm. An' I ain't 'fraid to go out in dat hall, no, I 
ain't; but (in a whisper) I gwine to stay hyah fo' awhile whar 
dar's a light, an' — {Sees Madeline.) Laws! Wha'sdat? 
Why, ef it ain't dat little Dutch gal fas' asleep. He ! he ! 
An' look at dat table ! Dar's somefin' under dat shawl. 
{Looks under shawl.) Store goodies ! I'll jes' eat one fo' to 
see how it do taste. {Eats.) Urn — m — m ! Sho' 'nuff goin's 
on. I'll jes' kiver up dat Mad'line les' she kotch col' ! 

( Takes afghan from couch and throivs it over chair and 
Madeline. Returns to table as Rosy enters, l.) 

Rosy {frightened). Och, Howly Mither ! The saints de- 
find us ! Didn't I say the shaddy av a rale live sojer or the 
ghost av wan down thirri shtairs ! It's the foine noight fer 
shpooks to walk. Och ! I'll niver lave the room agin. 
Murther ! Wat's that? Why — ef it ain't that nagur. 

Juliet. Yo' all mus' be afeard of nuffin'. A scart to leab 
dis hyah room. 

Rosy. Oi — Oi ain't froightened. What are you after a-doin' 
here this toime av noight, ye black scamp ? 

Juliet. Oh ! I'se jes' waitin' roun' fo' de sun to rise. 

Rosy. Wat's under there ? {Looks under table-cover.) Oi 
declare it's the young loidies thet'll be havin' a faste. Ye 
thafe, Oi'll bet ye bin afther stalen their goodies. Give 'em 
back roight away. 

Juliet. Haben't got none. {Aside.) Dat I ken gib back. 
{Aloud.) Yo' ken sarch me, ef yo' want. 



A FIGHTING CHANCE. 35 

Rosy. What the — what to goodness brought you here thin? 
Ye — did ye say the ghost in the hallway? 

Juliet. An' s'posin' I done— I ain't afeard. 

Rosy. Thin go out an' axe him wat he wants. 

Juliet. Yo' all go yo'self. 

Rosy. Oi've bin worrkin', and Oi'll jes' set here till — 
{Goes to sit down on Madeline's chair j Juliet screams, tuith 
hand over mouth, and pulls her azcay. ) Lave go av me this 
minute, ye lump av black. Why, wat's under thet kiver? 

Juliet. It's Missy Mad'line sho', yo' dumb Irish, an' yo' 
all would sit on her. Yo' see dey's goin's on hyah to-night. 

Rosy. Yis, I belave it, an' ef it's fer Miss Eleanore, Oi'll 
not say a worrd. 

Juliet. Why, honey, yo' ain't seclr po' white trash after 
all, am yo' ? What's dat ? 

Rosy. Jist the wind — st ! 

Juliet. No, it ain't; yo' all better run out ob dis hyah 
room. 

Rosy. Ye betther go yersilf. Oi'll hide back here — sst ! 
{Hides behind sofa, l.) 

Juliet {frightened). Sh ! it's some one sho'. I'll jes' hide, 
too. {Hides behind table, r.) 

Enter Mlle., c, with light. 

Mlle. Eet ees ver' late for mad'moiselle to make ze rounds, 
but I keep ze young ladies ver' long. All ees quieet, but why 
zis so much light. I wait and mayhaps I see. {Goes near 
Madeline's chair and is about to sit down, when Juliet and 
Rosy, who are watching, make smothered screams, then dodge 
back. Looking around). Parbleu ! What ees eet? Ze 
wind? {Listens.) Eet makes one to creep. {Shivers.) And 
Mees Eleanore, she ees asleep. Ah ! She ees soon found out 
and by Mad'moiselle Aimee Fordet. {Yawns; clock strikes 
twelve.) Ah ! Ze middle of ze night. I have ze fright — 
ugh ! I vill go immediatement. {Takes light ; exit, c.) 

Rosy {co?ning front). An' I'll jist go along quiet like be- 
hint her. [Exit, c. 

Juliet. An' yo' needn't think yo' ole Aunt Julie gwine to 
stay alone wid dees hyah noises. I'll jes' follow yo' all up, fo' 
we's all skeert ob sumtin', dat's sho'. [Exit. 

{Stage empty for a moment. Helen, Cecil and Lulu first 
whistle outside, then enter, at differejit doors, wearing 
dark cloaks. They carry so?ne eatables.) 



j6 A FIGHTING CMAKCE. 

Lulu. Sst ! 
Helen. Sst ! 
Cecil. Sst ! 

. {They look in and around, then enter.') 

Cecil. Come in. No one's hyah, not even that Mad'line. 
Whare ken she be, not to answer our signal. 

Lulu. Oh ! I was so afraid, for I'm sure I passed some one 
in the halls. 

Cecil. Nonsense, chile, the wind rattled things roun' such 
a heap. {Removes coal.) 

Helen {uncovering Madeline). Well, wouldn't that grab 
you ? {Shaking her bag of jacks. ) 

Lulu. Oh ! {Removes coat. ) 

Cecil. The idea — yo' terr'ble wicked chile ! I do declare, 
what shall we do tew her? {Makes as if to shake her.) 

Helen. No, don't, Cecil. I'll tell you, I think she ought 
to be punished ; I say we let her sleep. Just pull her back a 
little. 

{They move chair back, covering Madeline with afghan. 
Helen removes cloak.) 

Mabel {at door a). Sst ! 
Girls {turning). Oh ! come in. 

Mabel {breath/ess). Oh ! I've had such a chase. I met 
some one in our hall. 

Lulu. There, now, I told you so. 

Helen. } Hush ' Lulu * < To S^her.) 

Mabel. Do you know, it was our little fox-terrier, our little 
snooky mad'moiselle. I had to dodge and run, 1 tell you, but 
I don't think she saw me. Did you see her, Lulu ? 

(Helen begins to arrange table.) 

Lulu. Well, some one scared me dreadfully. Of course, it 
must have been mad'moiselle. It was so dark I couldn't see, 
but do you know, it looked more like a man. 

Cecil. Oh, Lou, yo'll die from seein' things. 

Mabel. Well, come, girls, we must start in. I have some 
sweet cider for the toasts; but, say, there's entirely too much 
for us four to eat. Where's Madeline? 

Helen. She went to sleep, and we're punishing her for 
napping on duty. There she is. 

Mabel. Poor thing, she'll smother. 



A FIGHTING CHANCE. 



37 



Lulu (with assurance, yet timidly). Do you know, as long 
as we have so much, and we've been so mean, I think we might 
as well send and ask Eleanore Hamilton. 

Cecil. Why, Lou Jeffe'son, are yo' goin' to turn Yank? 

Mabel. The very idea. Better ask the kindergarden, if 
you're so hard up. 

Helen (coming forward). And I say that Lou's all right, 
and the more the merrier. 

Lulu. It's the last time, and I don't believe she's half so 
horrid as we think ; and Ruth told me that her mother and 
brother are both dead. 

Cecil. Yo've been chumming with Ruth, have yo' ? Bet- 
ter have her tew. 

Helen. That's exactly what I say, and as long as the 
sides are even, let's toss up. 

Cecil. I don't b'lieve in yo' plan at all, but oh ! I tell yo' 
what we ken do fo' a joke. Take the kiver off Mad' line thar, 
quick, and all ask her somethin' together ; and if she says 
"yes," we'll send fo' Eleano' and Ruth; if she says " nein " 
or " no," we'll let that settle it. 

Helen. Agreed. What shall we ask her ? 

Mabel. Ask her if she's been asleep. 

Helen. Oh ! That's not fair, of course she'll say no. 

Lulu. It's growing terribly late 3 let's agree, Helen. 

Helen. Very well. 

Cecil. Come on, then. (Pulling cover off Madeline.) 
One — two — three. 

All (loudly). Have you been asleep ? 

Madeline. Ach ! Donner und blitzen ! Ya — ya — ya — I 
vill not forgut. I vill not zu shleep go. (Rises.) Wo bin 
ich. 

Helen. [ t lau S hin g)' There, she said " Ja. " 
Cecil. Well, now who'll go for this Eleano' ? 

(Pause, while girls look at each other. Eleanore appears 
at door c. Kisses her hand to girls, smiles and disap- 
pears.) 

Helen. I tell you, let's make Madeline go for further 
punishment. You naughty girl, you 

Madeline. Was vill I go ? 

Cecil. Yo' all go to Eleano' Hamilton's room and tell her 
tew come tew our feast, tew bring that Quaker, Ruth, and not 
tew make any noise. 



38 A FIGHTING CHANCE. 

(Madeline stands bewildered ; Helen pushes her out of 
door c.) 

Helen. There, hurry up ; I guess you'll keep awake for 
once. [Exit Madeline. 

Mabel. Say, girls, let's have a little toast to ourselves be- 
fore anyone else comes. (Lulu pours cider i?ito glasses.') 
Anyway I think we're spoiling everything. 

Cecil. Well, I do tew, but if yo' all spoil this, yo' ken 
give another feast at yo' own peril when machine's at home. 

Helen. All right, unless we're packed off by that time on 
account of these soldiers and battles and things. 

Cecil. 'S long as we all have to stay hyah, I clare tew 
goodness I wish we could get some news. We don't know 
anything positive since the battle of Antietam, the seventeenth 
of last month. (Lulu and Helen pass around glasses.) 
Co'se I know we'll lick the Yanks, but still I'd like mighty 
well tew hear what's happening fo' sutten. 

Mabel. So would all of us. Now are we ready ? Good 
luck to our soldiers. (All lift glasses.) May they win soon, 
for good and for all. 

Lulu. And here's to our feast — may there nothing befall. 
(Lifting glasses again. ) 

Helen (same business ; laughing). Here's to our madame, 
and her absence so fine. (Girls laugh and pause a moment.') 

Cecil (impulsively). If she just stays away, we'll toast 
her 

All. In wine. (All laugh and drink.) 

Cecil. One mo' toast, girls, — to Gene'l Lee and Stonewall 
Jackson, and may all our battles be Bull Runs. 

All. Hurrah! (Business of drinking.) 

Madeline (enters c, in great haste, badly frightened). 
Ach Himmel ! Ach ! I can it say not. Ich bin 

Cecil. Why, yo's frightened, chile. How foolish. 

Madeline. Ja, ja — how foolishness. Aber sie ist nicht 
dort. 

Helen. Oh ! Talk English. 

Madeline. Die girl is there not. Sie has vent. 

All. What? She has gone? ( Madeline nods.) 

Mabel. That's ridiculous, Madeline. She couldn't have 
gone. 

Cecil. Hyah, I'll go and see fo' maself. Don't yo' all eat 
till I get back. [Exit c. 

Lulu. Oh ! I feel so creepy. What do you think it all 
means ? 



A FIGHTING CHANCE. 39 

Mabel. It's pure nonsense. 
(Madeline goes back, slips doughnut away and eats it slyly.) 

Lulu. I believe Madeline is right, for I never saw her so 
frightened before. 

Helen. What do you s'pose it means, Mabel? Do you 
think ? 

Mabel. Could it be possible ? 

Lulu. Oh ! She wouldn't surely have 

Enter Cecil, c, in great excitement. 

Cecil. It's true, girls — she has gone. Climbed through 
the window — the bed's untouched, and something else is gone 
tew — the Yankee suit. 

Helen. Oh goodness : \ 

Mabel. Oh gracious ! \ ( Together. ) 

Lulu. Oh dear ! ) 

(Madeline is interested.) 

Cecil. An', girls, I heard a ho'se neigh, an' it didn't 
sound like any of our ho'ses either. 

Mabel. Come on, quick, let's give the alarm. (Goes to- 
ward door R.) 

Cecil (with back to door r.). An' I say that not one of yo' 
shall leave this do'mitory, an' if yo' attempt it, yo' all have to 
pass me first. (Girls fall back — a slight pause.) 

Mabel. Surely Miss Hotspur's sympathies are undergoing 
a sudden transformation. 

Cecil (coldly). Miss Hotspur ken explain. If that girl's 
brave enough tew ventu' out a night like this and try to 'scape 
through lines of soldiers both blue and gray, I fo' one, intend 
fo' her tew have a fair chance. I don't know what she is, but 
she's plucky, an' ou' family respect courage whe'ever it is. 

Mabel. Cecil, you're out of your mind. Think of the 
disgrace to the school. 

Lulu. And what will madame say ? 

Cecil. Well, this is my affair, an' I'll take the blame tew. 
If yo' all want tew tell on me, yo' ken. 

Helen. Well, Cecil, I never knew you were such a broad- 
minded girl. I'll do my part. 

Mabel. I cannot understand this at all. The girl is 
evidently doing wrong, and yet, Cecil, besides overlooking it, 
you really encourage it, You seemed very different a few 
injnutes agr>, 



40 A FIGHTING CHANCE. 

Lulu. Oh ! Cecil, I'm so frightened ; do be careful. 

Mabel. What will you say to madarae? She'll find it out 
anyway, and be terribly angry. 

Cecil. Then let her, but I fo' one don't intend to tell ma- 
dame. 

Madame enters c. 

Madame. And what will you not tell madame, may I ask, 
Miss Hotspur? {Girls much startled.) 

Cecil (confused). There — there are others hyah who are 
anxious to tell — let them. I fo' one, I — I — cannot. 

Madame. Young ladies, what is all this about ? 

(No reply ; Mabel starts forward but Helen prevents her.) 

Madame (angrily). We will return to this subject later, 
and the chief offender may answer for herself. I wish to know 
now what this means — this late hour — the young ladies awake 
— these light dresses, the glasses and food. Suffice it now to 
say that you all will be brought to justice. Oh ! I am 
ashamed of you. Think of the disgrace to these halls of learn- 
ing when it is said that the pupils have no honor and need to 
be watched day and night. Oh ! I am so chagrined. 

(Girls start forward as though to conciliate her.) 

Mabel. Madame, if you 

Helen. Madame, please 

Madame. Not a word. This will all be settled later. At 
present there are more important things to which I must at- 
tend; and it maybe that, although I'm not sure of trusting 
you again, still as you are the oldest pupils I may need your 
help. 

Helen. Believe me, madame, you can trust us. We 
meant no harm. It was so thoughtless and 

Mabel. We are very sorry. 

Madame. I will try to look at this affair in a less severe 
light for reasons which will soon appear, but now let me tell 
you rapidly of my doings and what must happen in a few 
hours. 

Mabel. Madame, won't you please tell us if there's any 
news of battles ? 

Madame. Yes, but my news is very unsatisfactory. Close 
that door, Helen. (Helen obeys.) There has not been a 
great deal of real fighting, but the story which we heard of 
that Mississippi battle was fully confirmed, Gen, Price was 



A FIGHTING CHANCE, 4I 

defeated, and beside the killed and wounded, lost nearly a 
thousand prisoners, {Girls display emotion. Lou hides head 
on Cecil's shoulder.) Then on the third of this month, our 
generals were repulsed while endeavoring to recapture Corinth, 
Things look more hopeful now, though you never can tell. 
Yesterday we could hear now and again the distant ominous 
cannonading reverberating like thunder from a coming storm. 
But to return to my subject. As most of you are aware, I took 
this journey because my patience was completely exhausted by 
the actions of a girl who is either wicked or very foolish. 

Mabel. Don't you know which by this time, madame? 

Madame. Do not interrupt me. I saw Col. Hamilton, and 
I have learned next to nothing. However he is following me 
as fast as possible. {Girls exchange glances.) He will take 
her in charge at once. (Madeline starts to speak, but others 
pull her back.) She is to leave the school. I am very much 
worried to know whether I have done what is right. Eleanore 
Hamilton is a mystery to me. 

Mabel. Surely, madame, she was a spy. 

Madame. She was ? Why, has she changed ? 

Mabel. No, but madame 



Helen {interrupting). You see, madame 

Lulu. Oh ! I am so frightened. 

Cecil. It's this way, madame 

Madame. Young ladies, what is the matter ? You mystify 
me. Speak out at once. {Pause.) I insist. 

{Girls speak almost simultaneously and as individually as 
possible.) 

Mabel {slowly). Well— — 

Helen. Well 

Lulu. Well 

Cecil. Well 

Madame {impatiently). Well? 

{Rapid pistol shots heard from six-shooter ; girls frightened 
and scream, some cling to Madame ; Madeline puts 
hands over ears. Mlle. rushes in c, andTtVTK R.) 

Mlle. {wringing hands ; greatly excited). Ah, le bon ciel ! 
Vat ees eet ? 

Madame. Young ladies, do not be frightened, I think it is 
merely some sharpshooter or picket. Remember the lines are 
very close, I confess I too was alarmed, but now more rea- 



42 A FIGHTING CHANCE. 

sonable thoughts come. Poor little frightened Lou. (Smoothes 
her hair?) 

Ruth {rapidly and aside). It is better for me to be here to 
avert suspicion if possible. .Oh ! What has happened ? 

Mlle. (very much excited). Ah ! Madame, eet ees a grand 
— ah, vat you call — mistake. Eet ees zat Eleanore Hameelton, 
and we are betrayed. 

Madame. Mad'moiselle, what do you mean ? Explain at 
once. (Girls show excitement.) 

Mlle. Madame, you have vent off some way. Some ter- 
reeble happens. Ah ! Eleanore Hameelton ees gone — ze room 
ees emptee — ze couch ees emptee — Eleanore Hameelton ees 
vraiment gone ! 

Madame. Mad'moiselle, you do not know of what you 
speak. She is somewhere in the house — she has gone to some 
one's room. Why, her father will soon be here for her. You 
are mistaken — surely you are mistaken. Mad'moiselle — mad'- 
moiselle — were you in her room ? 

Mlle. Oui, vraiment, ze door ees open — ze window ees 
open. Ah ! Mees Hameelton ees gone, I say eet. 

Madame (looks around). Young ladies, what does this 
mean. Your looks are those of guilt, have you also turned 
against us? 

Girls. No — no — no — madame. 

Madame. Then what does this mean. Ruth, where is 
Eleanore Hamilton ? 

Ruth (calmly). Madame, I do not know. Thee can search 
my room, but I will say truly she has not been there to my 
knowledge. 

Madame (angrily). Then what do you know about her ? 
(Glancing around.) Who knows about her? I will be an- 
swered this time. What do you know ? 

Mabel. Nothing, madame, but that she has really gone. 

Cecil. We sent to her room, yo' see 

Lulu. To ask her and Ruth to our feast 

Helen. And no one was there, and her Yankee soldier 
suit gone. 

Madame. Why did you not tell me this at once ? Perhaps 
she has just gone, perhaps even yet if I give the alarm — I will 
do so at once — I 

Ruth. Madame, will thee listen ? 

Madame. Wait until I return, Ruth. 

Ruth. Madame, I pray thee just a moment. This letter— 
(Holding out letter.) 



A FIGHTING CHANCE. 



43 



Madame. Why, this is from Eleanore. {Takes letter.) 

Ruth. Yes, madame, she had promised thee, she said, that 
thou shouldst have the whole truth from her. 

Madame. Ruth, tell me at once, what do you know of her 
whereabouts ? Is she in hiding or has she really gone ? 

Ruth. Oh ! Madame, I will speak quickly, and perhaps 
thy heart will be moved. 

Madame. Answer my question at once. 

Enter Rosy, l. 

Rosy. Ma'm, there's a man and some soldiers in gray in 
the drawin'-room, an' they want ye to onct, immajit, an' yer 
to bring the goirl wid yer, fer they sez they's froightened list 
their birrd is flown, whativer they mint be that. 

Madame. I will come at once, Rosy. [Exit Rosy l. 

(Madame turns to go r. ) 

Ruth. Madame, one moment please before thee goes. Oh, 
madame, I pray thee. 

Madame. Hasten then, Ruth. 

Ruth. Eleanore couldn't tell thee all, madame, for looking 
from thy standpoint, thee would have been compelled to have 
informed on her ; and this is her last chance for liberty, or an 
existence worse than death. 

Madame. Proceed rapidly. 

Ruth. Thee knows that Eleanore received much education 
in the North. While there her brother's chum at West Point 
fell in love with her, and she returned his love. Her father 
heard something of this, and sent for her immediate return. 
When the war broke out in earnest, there was a skirmish near 
Eleanore' s home, and a Union soldier, who was wounded in this 
fight, was left at their house until he should die or recover suf- 
ficiently to travel as a prisoner. This soldier was Eleanore's 

Enter Juliet, r. 

Juliet. The men ses, missus, yo' mus' come right off, 'cause 
dey's after a spy, an' dey done tink he's go'd somewhares 
roun' hyah. Ef yo' don't come dey'll 

Madame. Very well, Juliet, I'm coming now. 

[Exit Juliet, l. 

(Madame starts to go r., again crossing Ruth.) 

Ruth, Oh, madame, do not 



44 A FIGHTING CHANCE, 

Madame {undecided). Ruth, you can wait. 

Ruth. Just a minute, madame, I entreat you. This Union 
soldier was Eleanore's lover. 

Madame. And did he die too ? 

Ruth. No, but a wounded rebel soldier there died, and the 
Union soldier disappeared in a 

Madame. A suit of gray. 

Mabel. \ 

Helen, v A Confederate suit ! {Together.) 

Cecil. ) 

Ruth. When Eleanore's father found out that she had 
helped a Yankee to escape in this disguise, he raged terribly ; 
but for fear of the consequences to his name and influence, 
and also because he felt disgraced, he let no one know of it, 
but sent her here. 

Madame {much excited). And now, Ruth, now, what has 
happened ? 

Rosy {flying in l.). Yer to come at onct to the soldiers, 
or the ould man ses they'll be upshtairs, shure; an' yer to 
bring Eleanore Hamilton immajit. It's her father, it is, {girls 
scream) an', so help me, I'm glad it ain't mine. [Exit, l. 

Ruth {aside). She must have more time. {Aloud.) 1 
pray thee one more minute, just one. 

Madame. Ruth, are you keeping me for a purpose? 

Ruth. Madame, thee has asked me to tell what I know. 
One moment and I will finish. This young man is an officer 
now, and is the important spy who is being searched for every- 
where. 

Helen. Maybe he's been here. 

Madame. Silence. Has he, Ruth ? 

Ruth. Yes, often. He even drove her up in the carriage 
the morning she came. 

Mlle. I say so — I, Mad'moiselle Fordet, have telled eet 
long ago. r 

Madame. Hush ! Proceed. 

Ruth. There is little more. To-night they are escaping; 
together, Eleanore wearing the suit that once was his. 

Madame. But there is only one way they dare proceed ; is 
it not so ? 

Ruth {shrugging shoulders). Madame knows. 

Madame. It is by the old bridge and the burned trees, 
through the disused road and woods back of Green Arches. 
Oh ! Ruth, why didn't you tell me this before ? I 

Lulu, Madame, you will not try to — - 



A FIGHTING CHANCE. 45 

Helen. Oh ! Madame, even though we hated her at first, 
now 

Cecil. We think she's tew brave tew capture. 

Madame. Tine majority seem to have changed their politics, 
but 

Enter Rosy, l. 
Rosy. Ma'am, ef they ain't startin' to come upshtairs. 
Enter Juliet, l. 

Juliet {terrified). Oh ! law ! Dey'sgoin' to whip de life 
out of pore black Julie, an' I don't know nuffin' what dey tink 
I does. 

Mlle. Madame, I vill go tell — I vill see zat 

{Commotion and men's voices heard.) 

Madame. I will go. 

Ruth. Oh ! madame, I entreat thee, tell nothing. She is 
not yet far, but perhaps 

Madame. Hush, child ! {Pushes her away.) 

Ruth (on knees). Madame, think. {Taking her hand.) 
Think again — give her time. Suppose thou wert the one, and 
only one soul in the whole world really loved thee — perhaps, 
madame, some one has loved thee like that — perhaps now he 
is 

Madame. Ruth, silence at once. (Despairingly.) I can- 
not bear this. (Ruth remains on knees, covering face with 
hands. Girls well at sides of stage.) I shall be turned again 
by every varying wind. I must go. 

Near door, l., at back of stage, c, enter Eleanore Hamil- 
ton-, someiuhat disarranged in appearance, from hard riding, 
breathless and entreating. 

Eleanore. Madame, one moment ! (All show amazement.) 

Madame (turning quickly). What! You have not gone? 
Your looks belie your presence. 

Eleanore. Oh ! Madame, for once I implore your aid. 

Madame. Ah ! Our Juno has lost her pride. 

Eleanore (talking rapidly). No, not her pride, but her 
way. We struck into the woods, the bare branches almost 
dragging us from our horses, but by some horrible chance 
missed the old lane, coming in our haste into the main road ; 
and just ahead, riding madly, came those whose voices I heard 



46 A FIGHTING CHANCE, 

and recognized. We were caught in a trap — almost lost. 
Back we flew. As we passed the sentry, we were fired upon. 
Perhaps there is only a moment more of freedom — it all remains 
with you. 

Madame. With me ? 

Eleanore. Yes — hark ! they are coming up the stairs, I 
hear them. If you will only hold them at bay for five minutes, 
we are safe. Madame ! oh ! will you — will you ? 

Madame {abstractedly'). For the blue or the gray. 

Eleanore. Oh ! Madame, he is waiting for me. Quickly 
— quickly ! {Moves toward door, R.) 

Madame. For the blue or the gray ! 

{Again voices heard without?) 

Eleanore {despairingly; at door, r.). Oh! We are lost 
— we are lost ! 

{Girls i?iterested and excited.} 

Madame {awakening as if from a dream; speaking rapidly). 
Eleanore, you missed your way at the old bridge ; you should 
turn there to the right, pass the burned pine tree, then ford the 
stream where it bends. Listen — the}- are coming. Good-bye, 
and God keep you safe. (Eleanore seems dazed.) Eleanore, 
quick. {Pointing.) Go— go ! {Turns to girls.) Young 
ladies, to your rooms. {Quietly to Juliet.) Juliet, show the 
gentlemen in. 

{Tableau. Eleanore in act of going at door r. ; Juliet at 
door l. , watching for her to disappear before opening it. 
Girls appearing to exit c. Music, "Dixie" and "Star 
Spangled Banner," played simultaneously.) 



CURTAIN. 



NEW PLAYS, 



Nan, the Mascotte. 

A Comedy-Drama in Four Acts. 

By GILBERT PATTEN. 

Nine male, four female characters. Scenery not difficult; costumes 
modern. An up-to-date American melodrama, full of action and interest. 
This piece was originally produced by professional talent under the title 
of " Men of Millions," and was a great success. It has been played from 
manuscript by amateurs for several seasons, but is now printed for the 
first time. Its characters are all effective and nearly all of fairly even 
prominence. Soubrette, strong lead, strong "heavy," "hayseed" and 
"dude " low comedy, and "old maid." Three men and one woman may 
"double," thus reducing cast by four people. Strongly recommended. 
Plays two and a half hours. Permission to perform must be obtained 
from the author. 

Price 25 Cents. 



SYNOPSIS: 

ACT I.— Caleb's home. Social ambitions. " Borrying." Nan, the 
mascotte. The cut finger. " If mother should see us." Laying down the 
law. An unwelcome return. A bitter disappointment. Her husband. 
" You have not seen the last of me ! " Deacon Smartweed and the " wid- 
der." The see-saw. The accident. "What'll the parson say?" An es- 
trangement. Flood's return. The meeting. " That blow is enough." The 
murder. 

ACT II. — In New York. Lawyer vs. doctor. The speculator. The life 
of Wall street. The mascotte. * The mysterious chamber. "The man is 
mad." Nan and the dude. The real man. In society. Prompting Cupid. 
A "duck " and a " quack." Eavesdropping. An understanding. A finan- 
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ahead. 

ACT III.— The Deacon's visit. A changed wife. Golden Queen stock. 
The mascotte's warning. The dude and the deacon. " Dunno's I ever saw 
anythin' like that before." The lantern. " Some garden sass for Sister 
Baldwin." The red Indian. The hour of trouble. Sacrificing her child. 
The black door. The big chief and the butler. A fateful letter. His re- 
venge. A fearful price. A ruined man. Nan to the rescue. Saved. 

ACT IV.— Back in the country. A dude sportsman. "A weglar 
wuffian." A trial shot. " Gweat Motheth ! the hat wath on a manth head." 
The Deacon's experiences. Frackett's goat. The widow's rescue. Butted 
into matrimony. Flood's escape. A false report. A blessing in disguise. 
The secret of the room. Jimsy again. Hunted down. The arrest. Nan's 
enlightenment. For better or for worse. " What'll the parson say ? " 



An Awkward Squad. 

A Sketch in One Scene. 

By ROBERT H. BAKER. 

Eight male characters, two very subordinate. A very rapid and viva- 
cious fifteen-minute sketch, suitable for vaudeville purposes, turning 
upon a timely military subject. Irish, Dutch, "hayseed" and "dude" 
comedy parts. All right. 

Price 15 Cents. 

Sent, postpaid, on receipt of price, by 

BASER, 5 HAMILTON PLACE, BOSTON, MASS. 



NEW BOOKS FOR LITTLE ONES. 



In Child Land. 

A COLLECTION OF DRILLS, SONGS, FINGER-PLAYS AND RECITA- 
TIONS FOR LITTLE CHILDREN. 

Written and Compiled by NELLIE E. CASE and LAURA B. CASE. 

This excellent collection, the work of an experienced teacher of the 
young, comprises eight finger-plays, complete with music, sixty-nine 
recitations and colloquies, and three new drills — a Doll Drill, for ten 
little girls, a Sun-Flower Drill, for ten little girls, an Attitude Drill, 
for any number — all complete with music. It contains matter suited for 
school, home or exhibition purposes, and fills a want not supplied by any 
other book. 

Price 30 Cents. 



CONTENTS. 

PART I.— FINGER PLAYS. 

LITTLE HELPERS, THE BIRDS, 

THE SNOW BIRDS, THE CHILDREN'S PLAY, 

OLD SANTA CLAUS IS COMING, THE MICE, 

THIS LITTLE PIG WENT TO MARKET, 

MR. SQUIRREL. 

PART II.-RECITATIONS. 

SIXTY-NINE SELECTED RECITATIONS FOR LITTLE ONES. 

PART III.— DRILLS. 

DOLL DRILL (for ten little girls J. 

SUNFLOWER DRILL (for ten little girls). 

ATTITUDE DRILL, "GOOD NIGHT." (Song.) 



The Dolls' Frolic. 

AN ENTERTAINMENT FOR CHILDREN IN ONE SCENE. 
By R0SEHARY BAUM. 

Two boys and three girls. Costumes fanciful; scenery unimportant. 
An extremely pretty and picturesque entertainment for children, intro- 
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Price 15 Cent*. 



Sent, postpaid, on receipt of price, by 

BAKER, 5 HAMILTON PLACE, BOSTON, MASS. 



u 015 






* HE NOTORIOUS 
MRS. EBBSMTH. 



ARTHUR W. *"• 

.o, iour female char- 

.ines, modern ; scenery, all 

..u using piece, one of the mostpopu- 

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loniiance has been shown by hundreds of such pro- fl\ 

4>t during the past three years. Plays two bours and *aZ 

A Drama in Four Acts. By Arthur W. [j\ 
Pinero. Eight male and five female charac- 
ters; scenery, all interiors. This is a"prob- 



4> 

lem" play continuing the series to which " The jW 

Profligate " and "The Second Mrs. Tanqueray" 0Jk\ 

>AV belong, and while strongly dramatic, and intensely interesting is not suited for jki 

Wjy amateur performance. J.t is recommended for Reading Clubs. (1895.) ffjS 

'Xi TT-TT7 'D'DrYET If" A TT7 I A Play in Four Acts. By Arthur W. Pine- •!: 

fk\ 1 *ir. rRUrLUjA l C. KO geveii male and five female characters. /|\ 

"fil — ■ Scenery, three interiors, rather elaborate ;• vv 

/|\ costumes, modern. This is a piece of serious interest, powerfully dramatic in fk\ 

•"" movement, and tragic in its event. An admirable play, but not suited for ama- •-"-• 



fk\ teur performance. (1892.) fk\ 

& THE SCHOOLMISTRESS. I tfZsk&skt&iSSB- T 

ffy ' male characters. Costumes, mod- W m f\ 



JkV ern ; scenery, three interiors, easily arranged. This ingenious and laughable >ik 
w.fy farce was played by Miss Rosina Vokes during her last season in America with rfj 



I 

Jk\ great success. Its plot is amusing, its action rapid and full of incident, its dia- yiw 

^|3 logue brilliant, and its scheme of character especially rich in quuint and humor- r||l 

ifAW ous types. The Hon. VereQueckett and Peggy are especially strong. The piece jui 

rf 3 is in all respects suitable for amateurs. (18940 ff^ 

A Play in Four Acts. By Arthur TV'. Mr 
Pinero. Eight male and five female char- 
acters. Costumes, modern; scenery, three 



THE SECOND 
MRS* TANQUERAY. 



Pinero. Eight male and five female char- yk'l 
nteriors. This well-known and powerful ykf 



w 

Mf play is not well suited for amateur pe 

WS formance. It is offered to Mr. Pinero's admirers among the reading public in t|j 

Mr answer to the demand which its wide discussion as an acted play has created. Mr 

\l> (1894.) Also in Cloth, $1.00. ^4y 

W SWEET LAVENDER. I &.& , ia ^™^A*S%, W 

\l/ characters. Scene, a single interior, the %!/ 

3Y'. same for all three acts ; costumes, modern and fashionable. This well known JIv 

\1/ ;il1 d popular piece is admirably suited to amateur players, by whom it has been %■# 

^1^ often given during the last few years. Its story is strongly sympathetic, and its IV. 

\|# comedy interest abundant and strong. (1893.) %■/ 






TTHF TTrVTF^ 1 AComedvin Four Acts. Bv Art 
1 male and seven female characte 
gant interior ; costumes, moder 



tTHl'R W. PTNERO. Six Mf 

rs. Scene, a single ele- ykd 
n and fashionable. An *j* 



ti|if entertaining piece, of strong dramatic interest and admirable satirical humor. i|> 

Mf (1892.). Mf 

JE THF WFAKTP <sFX I A Comedy in Three Acts. By Arthttr JJf 

\D/ 1-TXC. WIL/VISJir^ 0£^V» W. Pinero. Eight male and eight female \U 

jY' A - ' characters. Costumes, modern ; scenery, vlv 

Mr two interiors, not difficult. This very amusing comedy was a popular feature of %l# 

IV. the repertoire of Mr. and Mrs. Kendal in this country. It presents a plot of 

%■# strong dramatic interest, and its incidental satire of '" Woman's Rights" em- 

VS. ploys some admirably humorous characters, and inspires many very clever lines. 

%l# Its leading characters are unusually even in strength and prominence, which 

V/- makes it a very satisfactory piece for amateurs. (1894.) .*. 

^^^ '^ •^^'^^'^^'^'^'^ ' ^ ' ^ ' ^' ^'^'^'^'^ •^'^■^ 



W 



^EDITH'S 




i) 



3n Operetta for Cljiltircu. 



% ^ords by MARGARET FEZANDIE and EDGAR MORETTE' 

/|\ Music by EUGENE FEZANnTF T. 

/I\ — LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 

i\\ Eleven characters, girls and boys, or »U girls 

ilv tlona ror chorus. Scenery unnecessary -; cos 

/|\ 1S v arranged at home. His admirable htth 

2V \;:X '"it isvery tuneful and g^ace ifllf »*Jg» 

fl> ror private theatricals or tor schools. It ^spait 

Jki use.as it deals whimsically with the question 

r|^ however, an excellent moral. 

hi Price 35 cents 




0DD0PERASSEVENT1DE 

A Collection of Short and Simple Musical 
Entertainments for Children. 

By MRS. G. N. BORDMAN. 
fhi B *>lle^^ 
i witli the tastesand limitations ol childr en J vJ ■ f ■ Tht . ( ; nl ,,, t ion 

. :llll lsu I1 «,:uulall.lK-« ; l,.n.s,.:m v in t ^ ! .^V ) r u 't i,al-i lit v . Neither 

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, ; v Xnr t rTuW 

' iealof the must economical committee of arrangements. 



50 cents. 



CONTENTS. 



A GUrtPSe of the lirowiiies. A 
Musical Sketch for Children. Any 
number of boys. 

Market. Day. An Operetta for Young 

IV., I ] frtB ll,ul 

oho 

Queen Flora'! 1>a.v Dream. An 
Operetta for Children. Six speak- 
ing parts and chorus. 



The Boating Tarty. A Musical 
Sketch for tittle Children. Thirty 
boys and girls, 

Six Little Grandmns. A^Musioal 
Pantomime for very Little Children. 
six very little girls. 

Jimmy Crow. A K< citation for 



tnmy Crow 
Little Girl. 



A House in the Moon. 

i ion for a Child. 



A Utfeit 



AS 
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$ 

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£«5 



A 




